Synopsis ; Wherein, the creeps get absolutely strength mogged by reader.
Pairings ; Jeff the killer, Ben Drowned, Homicidal Liu, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby, Hoodie, Masky, Bloody Painter, Kagekao, X-Virus, Kate the Chaser, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer x gn! Reader
Word count ; 1,437
Warnings ; Mild language, Non-Sexual
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JEFF THE KILLER
One random day, you just saw a TikTok post from your feed about couples having funny arm wrestling matches, so succumbing to boredom, you decided to annoy jeff to man up and accept your offer, though he would always say things about "That shit's a waste of time" or "I would beat you anyways."
"Come on! Just do it you coward!" you yell. You were currently inside his room and both of your ramblings could be heard from the next room or at the hallway.
"Didn't I tell you I would beat you anyways!?" After 3 or more bribes, he was now laying his arm on the table while you were at the opposite side.
"If you talk about some shit like I cheated, the news you lost would be spread around the damn house," he retorts, rolling his dirty ass hoodie sleeve up.
"As if bruh," you backed up, smirking and also rolling your sweater sleeve up. You caught his hand that would be classified as a slap, and gripped hard to show dominance.
You then pushed his arm sideways without any countdown, only giving him a few seconds to balance and push your arm sideways too. Your arm remained tilted but, using the power of plot armor, you actually managed to push one of the strongest mfs of the house's arm down.
"Take that! Who's spreading the news now huh?" you said punching the air. Jeff only contemplated on the desk with his hands clenched together in a praying stance wondering how the hell did that even happen.
At the end of the day, he prevented you from sharing the news anyways because he threatened to force you to wash his dirty ass bloodied hoodie.
BEN DROWNED
You were currently at his room while Ben was playing video games again, specifically Mortal Kombat. The sounds of his console could be heard throughout the room and you were getting annoyed of how loud it was.
"Ben, can you just play another game?" you asked trying to suppress the annoyance you felt.
"Hmm... I'll only play a different game if you play with me ma," he offered, still focused on the screen, and he looked like he was actually winning.
"Fine, but what if I told you in real life?"
"Huh? You wanna shoot me in real life?"
"Of course not! I meant something like arm wrestling," you immediately corrected, Ben placing his console down anyways.
"Aight bet!" he agreed. Once you sat down facing him you placed your elbow at his table, him doing the same too.
"You better prepare to handle the strength of the beast," he remarked.
"Ya mean the strength of the level one elf? Lol," you retorted, he only gave you a pout.
Both of your hands met, and in a blink of a second before he could regain his composure you pushed down his arm without effort.
"Huh!? How did that happen? You didn't even give me a second to prepare," he mumbled, pulling his hat down to cover his face.
"Told you, you're a level one elf," you said ignoring his protesting remarks and naggings about having one more round.
At the end of the day? He forced you to play video games with him and as a comeback, he used cheats to beat you.
HOMICIDAL LIU / SULLY
You snuck into his room one evening and decided to pester him about random things until it got to strength, with that Sully couldn't let that slide.
"Fine, you wanna see how strong I am? Go on, sit down and let's have an arm wrestling match," Sully said, nodding his head on the chair in front of him.
Of course you wouldn't back down on a match, so you agreed.
Liu, who was peacefully reading a book at the corner, already looked concerned.
"...This is a terrible idea," he muttered.
Sully ignored the remark immediately. "Nah, watch me humble them."
You sat down across from him while he rolled up his sleeves dramatically like he was about to fight in the UFC finals instead of losing at a wooden desk in a dusty murder mansion.
"Ready to cry?" Sully grinned.
"You say that like you aren't built like an exhausted raccoon," you replied.
"...The fuck does that even mean?"
Before he could continue yapping, you grabbed his hand. He squeezed yours confidently.
Liu sighed. "Sully, maybe don't underestimate—"
SLAM.
His hand hit the table so fast the desk actually creaked.
Sully stared at the table. Then at his hand. Then at you.
"...What."
You leaned back in your chair like a retired champion. "Damn. That was kinda easy."
Liu started coughing because he was trying not to laugh.
"You cheated," Sully accused immediately.
"Bro how do you cheat in arm wrestling!?"
"You used witchcraft."
"The only magic here is your disappearing masculinity."
At the end of the day, Sully demanded a rematch every thirty minutes and lost every single one while Liu kept score on a sticky note.
EYELESS JACK
Jack was minding his business in the kitchen at 2 AM, because apparently that's the natural habitat of creepypasta creatures.
You walked in half asleep and immediately saw him effortlessly carrying a suspiciously heavy box with one arm.
"...Okay big guy," you started, grabbing a juice box from the fridge. "Arm wrestle me."
Jack slowly turned his masked face toward you.
"...Why."
"Because I think I can beat you."
The silence afterward was so long you almost thought he disconnected from the server.
Finally, he set the box down. "You humans are strange."
Five minutes later you were both sitting at the kitchen table while Hoodie and Masky silently watched from the hallway like they just discovered free entertainment.
Masky whispered, "Ten bucks on Jack."
Hoodie nodded immediately.
The second your hands locked, you slammed his arm down so hard the table shook.
The entire kitchen froze.
Masky's ten dollars spiritually evaporated.
Jack remained motionless for a good five seconds.
"...Interesting," he finally said.
At the end of the day, Jack started carrying TWO heavy boxes around the house for absolutely no reason.
TICCI TOBY
This man accepted the challenge WAY too fast.
"OH YOU ARE SO DONE," Toby yelled before you even finished your sentence.
The guy literally dragged a chair across the floor at mach speed and sat down backwards like a gremlin who drank six energy drinks.
Meanwhile, Clockwork and Nina suddenly appeared out of nowhere because apparently gossip spreads faster than WiFi in the mansion.
Toby pointed at you dramatically. "I need you to know I chopped wood this morning."
"And I opened a pickle jar first try."
"...Shit."
The second the countdown ended— SLAM.
Toby's arm hit the table instantly.
"...WHAT!?"
You sat there calmly while Toby stared at his own arm like it betrayed him personally.
Clockwork and Nina were dying laughing while Toby demanded seven rematches and lost every single one.
MASKY
Masky approached this like it was a professional tournament.
Elbows positioned perfectly.
Serious expression.
Whole posture locked in.
Meanwhile you were eating chips with your free hand.
Hoodie stood nearby silently recording on his phone because he already sensed incoming humiliation.
The second the match started, Masky actually pushed your arm slightly at first.
He smirked under the mask. "See?"
Then you pushed back.
His confidence disappeared immediately.
"...What the hell?" he grunted.
SLAM.
Hoodie lowered the phone slowly while Masky stayed frozen in place staring at the table like he just watched his GPA vanish.
At the end of the day, the video somehow ended up circulating around the mansion anyways.
HOODIE
Unlike everyone else, Hoodie did not immediately accept.
He stared at you.
Then at Masky, who was still recovering emotionally from his loss earlier.
Then back at you again.
"...No," he answered simply.
After ten minutes of pestering, he finally sighed deeply.
"Fine."
The moment both of you sat down, half the mansion somehow materialized nearby.
Jeff was eating chips.
Ben had a Nintendo Switch in hand.
Toby was yelling "GET HIS ASS" for absolutely no reason.
The match started.
For a solid five seconds, neither arm moved.
Everyone actually went quiet.
Hoodie was genuinely strong, but then you cracked your neck with your free hand.
Hoodie immediately knew he was cooked.
"...Wait."
SLAM.
The room erupted into laughter while Hoodie quietly muttered:
"...I should've stayed in my room."
LAUGHING JACK
This was the WORST possible person to challenge because he turned the whole thing into a circus event.
Somehow there were balloons now.
"STEP RIGHT UP EVERYBODY!" Jack announced dramatically while standing on the dining table. "TODAY WE WITNESS THE MIGHTY BATTLE BETWEEN A GREMLIN AND A—"
"You literally live in the vents," you interrupted.
The second he got distracted by emotional damage, you slammed his arm into the table.
The balloons popped from how hard he gasped.
"...THIS GAME IS RIGGED."
At the end of the day, he kept challenging random people in the mansion trying to regain his honor. Jeff beat him too.
BLOODY PAINTER / HELEN
You found Helen painting peacefully in his room.
"...Can I help you?" he asked without looking away from the canvas.
"Arm wrestle me."
"...What?"
"Scientific research."
"...That's not science."
After enough insisting, he finally agreed.
Unlike everyone else, Helen wasn't trash talking. He actually looked weirdly respectful about it.
The match started.
For a second, he actually held his ground pretty well.
"...Oh?" you blinked.
Helen looked mildly proud of himself for approximately 1.2 seconds before you pushed harder and slammed his hand down anyways.
His eyes widened slightly.
"...Oh."
At the end of the day, he painted a suspiciously detailed drawing of your arm labeled "eldritch horror."
KAGEKAO
The second you challenged him, he laughed.
Not a normal laugh either.
This man sounded like a rich anime villain discovering tax fraud.
"You?" he scoffed dramatically. "Beat me?"
"Yes."
Five minutes later, he sat down across from you with the confidence of a man who absolutely should NOT have been confident.
He even fixed his gloves dramatically beforehand.
Kagekao smirked beneath the mask. "Do try your best."
You immediately slammed his arm into the table before he even finished talking.
The impact echoed through the room.
Kagekao remained frozen.
"...Excuse me?"
"You got microwaved."
At the end of the day, he claimed the establishment was "biased against attractive people." Nobody listened to him.
X-VIRUS/CODY
The SECOND you mentioned arm wrestling, Cody stared at you like you just activated a side quest.
"...Interesting."
Instead of answering normally, he immediately pulled out a notebook from absolutely nowhere and started writing things down.
"Subject appears confident despite lacking visible muscle mass..." he muttered.
By the time you sat down, he was rambling about "biological advantages," "muscular output," and "probability percentages."
"For the record," he started, "based on my calculations, I possess approximately an 87.4 percent chance of victory."
"Cool."
SLAM.
His arm hit the table before he even finished speaking.
The silence afterward was devastating.
"...Impossible."
You leaned back in your chair. "Damn. Guess the calculations weren't calculating."
He spent the next THREE DAYS trying to create some kind of grip strength training regimen. It didn't work.
KATE THE CHASER
Kate looked at you like you personally offended her bloodline.
"...You wanna WHAT?"
"Arm wrestle."
"Because everybody else already lost."
That caught her attention immediately.
Unlike the others, Kate wasn't loud about it. No dramatic speeches. Just pure determination radiating from her like an anime rival character.
The match started.
Immediately, Kate pushed hard enough that your arm actually tilted slightly.
Clockwork gasped dramatically. "OH DAMN."
Kate smirked. "Got you."
Then you pushed back.
Her expression changed SO fast.
"...Wait."
SLAM.
Kate stared at the table silently.
"...I hate this house."
At the end of the day, Kate started training with Toby out of pure spite.
JANE THE KILLER
Jane accepted WAY too calmly.
"Sure."
Honestly? That scared you more.
You sat across from her at the dining table while the others gathered nearby AGAIN because apparently nobody in this house had hobbies anymore.
For a few seconds it genuinely looked like Jane might win.
Then you locked in.
The smile on her face slowly disappeared as your arm stopped moving entirely.
"...Oh dear."
SLAM.
The table shook.
Jane blinked once while still holding your hand.
"...Well."
Clockwork whispered, "She's taking it way better than the boys."
Meanwhile Jeff was arguing in the background about not being Jane's employee.
It wasn’t lost on you how Stack would fuck you like a mad man who hated you after not having acces to the saccharine pot between your legs for too long.
After he abruptly ended the call, you ran to the bathroom to freshen up. Thank god you had your everything wax done a week ago. Saves you from having to do a last minute shave.
Getting into the shower, you exfoliate your body with the pink hibiscus scented body scrub. Every nook and cranny was thoroughly cleaned because Stack can get a little passionate when it comes to showing his love and appreciation. There’s not a part of your body that hasn’t been in that man’s mouth. Especially after not having a taste for 14 days, he was going crazy today.
You were damn near buzzing with excitement. One thing about it is you were always extra horny when your body finally decided to act right. Even while sitting down in order to moisturizer, you could feel your center throbbing so hard.
“Hmm lingerie or birthday suit? Decisions, decisions” looking in your lingerie drawer, you were contemplating giving him something to tear apart before getting to the prize or just going full nude and getting down to business once he made it home.
Ultimately the decision came down to wearing your black three piece lingerie. Stack always loved the chase. Plus he’s a visual, he always appreciates it when you give him a show. Not sure if you’ll have time for that today.
You could hear the front door creak open and your dog and lovely companion barking with excitement as his father walked in.
Suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat in two places. Between your legs and in your chest. Not only did the sound of his voice have your center moist, you were also anticipating seeing his handsome face.
“Down boy, down! Lil hyper midget.” His rough but sweet voice to your ears could be heard scolding the dog. Frankly those two had a love hate relationship which is crazy because he bought it for you but would act like he didn’t like the dog. Not even after seeing proof of him cuddling the little beast or him getting emotional when he got sick that one time.
Ascending the stairs like her royal highness, he heard the click clack of your kitten sandals and he straightened his posture to get a good look at you. He could smell your sweet scent mixed with your natural scent, the combination teasing his nostrils and making his mouth salivate.
One would think you were a virgin the way you were standing before him. Eyes looking every where but directly at him. Doing that little nervous dance. It took him 3 long strides to stand in front of you as he peered down at you.
“Fuck! You not playing fair baby” he muttered. His lips hovering over your gloss covered ones.
Hands circling your waist. Running up and down your full figure as his head found its place in the crook of your neck.
You could hear him sniffing you. Taking in your scent that he loved oh so much.
“And you smell delectable too. I could eat you right now.” He growled close to your ear as he nibbled on your earlobe. “Can I eat your pussy baby? Hm? You know how bad I missed it.”
All you could do was moan helplessly. Your hands running up and down his broad back. Squeezing his muscles. God, you missed feeling his rough biceps under your palms.
“Uhh baby wait..” you couldn’t help but moan as he smacked your ass and rubbed the spot. He jiggled it in his hands as if it was a stress ball. “You need to wash up first.”
“Why? Imma just sweat and get dirty anyways”
“Baby please-“ came out in a whiny voice as your arousal kept drenching your inner thighs.
After a few more minutes of him kissing on you and kneading your body like a horny teenager, he reluctantly detached from your body and basically run to the bathroom to wash up.
If someone were to ask you what’s your name or what date it is? You wouldn’t even know where to begin. The only thing coming from your succulent lips, that Stack had kidsed so much and bit on, were your beautiful moans and the word Daddy.
“Daddy-“ He lapped on your pussy like a caveman who just discovered his meal. Legs spreads and draped over his broad shoulders. His hands rubbing your titties. You were in heaven.
And so was he, given the grunts that kept coming from the back of his throat.
He put his whole face between your thighs. Alternating between making out with your pussy and his nose inhaling your scent.
“My god! I fucking missed this.” He growled.
You couldn’t take it anymore. Your palms pushing against his strong shoulders and your body trying to scoot back and detach from his lips that seemed to be glued to you.
“Why are you running?” When he lifted his head, you could see your juices coating his moustache. That visual was enough to make you cum on the spot. Paired by the obvious neediness in his dark brown orbs.
“B-baby I caan’t, it’s too much”
“Nah you’re a big girl. You can take it mama.” He said as he pulled your body under his massive one. Arms cradling you like a fragile little thing. He rained soft kisses all over your face. You chest.
It’s like the body has a mind of its own. Didn’t even notice when you started grinding on his center that was laying between your legs. Rock hard you could bet he was uncomfortable.
The combination of his dick teasing you, his mouth making out with your areolas and his fingers caressing your scalp, surely you couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
“Tell me what you want mama. You keep making all these noises, I need you to tell daddy what you want.”
Your soft fingers came between your bodies to hold his dick, making it jump.
“Please, p-please put it innn” Your whiny voice and moans were like soft breeze caressing his ears.
“Yeah? Put it in then baby. Put it in for me.” He pecked your lips then pecked your forehead
Your fingers shook as you held him tightly guiding him to your entrance.
“Oh my God, oh my god, oh my go-“
“Fuck! Open up for me baby. You know I need more space than that.” Came his cocky reply as you struggle to take him all the way.
He always let you guide him in because it was always a sweet but painful few seconds before you could fully let him in .
But once he was in, you both let out sigh. You knew you were in for a long night. No complaints, because this is what you both needed.
Don’t forget to comment and reblog. Thank you for reading! 💋
a/n: this is my first fic here also you know the deal english isn’t my first language hope you'll like it <3
The house was crowded. Too crowded. And loud. Which was normal, considering you were at a party.
You walked to the backyard, that was surprisingly empty. Everyone was probably puking, sleeping or making out. You’ll hear on Monday at school the things everyone did. Who hooked up with who. Maybe some couples broke up this night. But it was too soon to think about Monday. You could already feel the morning headache, like someone was inside your skull knocking very hard. You needed to sit down.
Not wanting to go back into the house or sit on the ground, you head to the swing by the fence. You tried to walk in a straight line while sipping on the bottle of water you had. Getting closer to the swings, you saw there was someone already there. As you were still walking and squinting, trying to see who it was, you slammed your leg into something solid.
“Fuck!” you cursed when your leg started throbbing with pain. “Who the hell has a big rock in the middle of their backyard!” you grunted angrily to yourself. You passed the rock and heard a low chuckle coming from the swings.
“I asked myself the same thing” the same voice said. “That’s why I thought you already saw it and I didn’t have to warn you about it.” he said. You looked at him. He wore a denim jacked, a Black Sabbath shirt and ripped jeans. You glanced at the beer in his hand, but more at the rings he wore.
“Why, are you like the keeper of the stone, waiting creepily in the dark to warn people?” You entered his game and he grinned.
“Yes, that’s exactly why I’m here.”
“Well, you failed and I nearly broke my leg.” You were now standing in front of the empty swing, contemplating if you should sit or not.
“I am so sorry” he said and touched his heart with a palm theatrically, bowing his head. “What can I do to redeem my mistake, my lady?”
“My lady? You flatter me.” His curious eyes were on you, waiting for a response. “Hmm” you tried to look pensive. “Maybe you can let me sit on the empty swing.” you offered.
“Of course.” he nodded.
You sat down. Your head stopped hurting. Silence followed, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt peaceful. Like you were sitting with someone you knew for a lifetime. You could hear the music and people cheering inside the house. The night was so clear. You looked at the stars, hoping for a few moments you’ll catch a falling star. You turned your head back to the boy, finding him already looking at you. He quickly looked at the sky.
“I know you. You’re Eddie.” You had some classes with him. He sat a few seats from you in maths and history. You noticed him every day, always doing his thing. Drawing, scribbling words on scrapped paper, never paying attention in class. He was interesting to you, a puzzle you were too shy to solve. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you during class. Or during lunch, when your eyes found each other over the sea of people, too often to be by mistake.
He tilted his head, his eyes on you again, almost like not believing you said his name. “I hope you don’t know it for the wrong reasons.”
“No” you claimed. “We share a few classes. You asked me once for a pen.” You squinted at him and raised an eyebrow, shifting your face to a fake serious expression. “You never gave it back to me.”
Eddie looked caught in a trap, but when you smiled he started laughing.
“I swear it’s somewhere safe, in my room. I’ll look for it and give it to you in maths class.” he offered
“Nah, you can keep it. I don’t even remember what it looks like.”
Another silence falls over you, but this time it felt different. Like you both wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. You opened your mouth, but he already started speaking.
“Can I be honest with you? I didn’t think you were gonna sit here.” he confessed.
“What?” you blinked.
Eddie shrugged. “You know, I’m at the bottom of the food chain. And you’re…” He stopped “You’re you.”
You tilted your head, confused. “What does that mean?” You were a bit stunned by the fact that he paid enough attention to you to notice that.
His eyes widened, thinking he offended you. “Sorry, I meant people like you and you’re smart. High school treats you well.” He looks at you holding his breath, thinking he ruined the moment.
You laugh and he exhales relieved. “Is that what you think of me? People sometimes talk to me during class because they want to know what homework we had. Or, you know, they ask for a pen” You smirked and he puffed. You leaned on the chain “But I don’t really have friends. Just Robin. And sometimes Nancy. I guess people don’t like me enough to want to be my friend.”
You couldn’t believe how fast you just told him one of your biggest insecurities. That you’re not interesting enough to be approached. It was something about him. Like if you could pour your entire heart for him. Maybe it was the alcohol in your veins.
“I told you that because when people talk I sometimes hear your name and they say nice things about you, that’s all.” he said and took a sip of beer. He offered you the bottle and you took it. Your fingers brushed for a second, sending a strange feeling to your stomach. You couldn’t believe you were here, sharing a beer with Eddie Munson.
“Sounds like you’re watching me.” you teased. He looked caught again.
“I’m not doing it in a creepy way, I just-” He said quickly, trying to explain himself but failed.
You smiled “It’s okay, I-” You felt embarrassed for what you’re about to say. “Sometimes I watch you too. Like you said, people talk and I always thought there’s more to you than what they say.” Eddie looked at you, studying your face, like he was trying to see more than what you let on. “You know, I didn’t peg you for someone to come to a Valentine’s Day party. Don’t think you’ll find Black Sabbath playing here.” you said, pointing at his shirt.
He nodded and shrugged. “I’m here for the free booze. I don’t mind hanging out in the backyard. Last month, I switched the tape that was playing with one of mines. At first no one noticed, but then that guy Trevor came and tossed it.”
“That was you? Those were two minutes of the party. What was it? ‘Heaven and hell’?” You remembered Trevor’s party. All you heard for three hours was Madonna. You were groaning every time a new song started.
Eddie stared at you in disbelief. “You listen to Black Sabbath?”
“Yeah. I have a pin with them on my backpack. I guess you’re not watching me too closely.” I smiled.
He placed a hand on his chest. “I promise I’ll watch you even more from now on.” He said with a wide smile on his face. “What else?”
“Bowie, Beatles, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue. I saw Metallica with my dad.” You looked at Eddie. He looked like he was zoning out. “Eddie?”
“Sorry, did you just say you saw Metallica? I feel honoured to be in your presence.”
“You’re really dramatic, you know that?” You rolled your eyes. “My dad has a camera. He took some photos. I can show you if you want.” you offered. You couldn’t help but smile at him. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
“That would be so cool man.” When he looked at you, you could feel something shifted between you. “You’re way cooler than I thought. I was actually watching you bec-” He looked shy. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”
“To ask me for another pen?” you teased him. You both laugh, but you couldn’t hide that his words flustered you. “I wanted to talk to you too. Guess I thought you’re a bit scary. I didn’t know anything about you. I mean, the real you” you said trying to look him in the eyes. When you did, even in the dim light, you noticed how brown they were. And how they almost seemed like they were looking for something hidden in yours. For a few moments neither of you dared to move. You could hear ‘I’m not in love’ faintly playing from the house. You felt something strange in your stomach again. Embarrassed, you cough, trying to get rid of the flush in your cheeks.
You kept talking, jumping easily from a topic to another. Movies, books, movies. You found out you shared a Lord of the Rings obsession. Sometimes, when he talked, he gestured, and you couldn’t help but stare at his hands and rings.
“You should come to a d&d meeting. I know you’ve probably heard a lot of bad stuff, but I promise you we’re not summoning demons. I can teach you how to play, if you want.” he looked at you with anticipation.
“I’d like that.” you nodded. “Find me at school next week.”
“Perfect!” Eddie smiled wide, his heart racing. He finally did it. After months of stolen glances and trying to make up the courage to talk to you, somehow you stumbled into him and somehow stayed.
Eddie drove you home. When he pulled up in front of your house, you didn’t move. Tension built up during the drive. You didn’t want to leave, to end this night. You looked at him.
“Thanks for the ride. And for tonight. You saved me from that party.” you fidget. “I’m glad I didn’t listen to those jerks. You’re really cool.”
“You’re really cool too.” he smiled gently. He wanted more time with you. The burden of everything he wanted to say to you was crushing and it put him in a short state of misery.
Going through the same storm of feelings and being too nervous to say anything, you turned to the car door to leave. As you touched the handle, you got a sudden rush of adrenaline and turned to him. At the same time, he started speaking:
“Wait, do you wan-” You stopped him with a kiss on his cheek. Eddie stopped, looking at you with those wide, brown eyes that drove you insane all night. You started to feel embarrassed that you interrupted him, but his cheeks were now a light colour of pink. He blinked and lightly touched his cheek with his fingers. He was aware that he was acting like an idiot the whole night every time you looked or touched him, but this was on a whole other level.
“Sorry, I-” you turned, scared that you ruined the night.
“No, don’t be.” he said, still flustered. He wanted to kiss you right then and it took everything not to. “I was wandering if you want to go to watch the new movie. With me. There’s a screening at six. I wanted to go alone, but I think you’ll like it.” he asked quickly, his hands shaking a bit. “I can pick you up.”
His question took you by surprise. You smiled. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Butterflies flooded your stomach. “Do you have a pen?”
“What? Yeah somewhere” He started searching through the cup holder. You looked too. It was filled with bottle caps, guitar picks, folded paper, a few cigarettes and a pen. He handed it to you, confused.
You took his hand and scribbled your phone number. “Call me before you leave your house.”
You didn’t need to give him your number. Not really. But you wanted him to have it. You were still holding his hand as he stared at it. Eddie closed his palm around yours. He brought it up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Your cheeks had to be a deep shade of pink, as you could feel them burning. His lips were soft against the back of your hand. You already missed his touch when he let go of your hand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said.
“Yeah, see you.” The cold February air brushed your face, cooling it. Damn, you were sure looking like a tomato. You circled Eddie’s van, heading to the door. Before you unlocked it, You turned your head to his window. Eddie was already watching you, smiling. You smiled too and opened the car door and he started the engine.
Now in your bed, you could still feel the shadow of Eddie’s lips on your knuckles.
When Eddie pulled up in the trailer park and opened the door, he touched again the cheek you kissed earlier. Damn. You got him wrapped around your finger in one night. He was in big trouble.
Summary: When Beau had the bright idea of going undercover to observe a pair of questionable Alphas at a casino, he never expected to meet you, caught in the crossfire of a perilous operation.
Author's Note: Get your tissues ready! 🤧🧡 (Also, while I wasn't selected for jury duty on a potential 2-3 week trial, it was easily one of the longest days of my life going through the lawyers' questioning in a room of about 100 people. 😮💨)
Word Count: 7.6K
Posted on Patreon: May 8, 2026
Series Tags & Warnings: (18+) | Omegaverse, A/B/O dynamics, fluff and feels, angst, perilous situations and violence, references to physical and sexual abuse/assault, emotional support, hurt/comfort, protective Beau, and an ending 🌄
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Part 8: Conviction
Beau opened up the next moving box, grinning like he just hit the jackpot.
“Oh, hello,” he said. He dug deep and pulled out your collection of CDs. “Pearl Jam, 4 Non Blondes, Evanescence, Nickleback? What am I gonna find in the next box, cargo pants and a tattoo kit?”
Your gaze cut to him wryly, your lips fighting a smile.
“Don’t forget a choker and a nose ring,” Ava said. She’d just found your old combat boots in your meager collection of shoes. “She channeled her awkward teen angst into the grunge phase.”
“Hey, it was a seamless transition,” you argued. You went over to Beau to help him take out the rest of your CDs and stack them on the coffee table. You were already plotting on how to fit them with his vinyl collection in the TV stand cabinet.
While Ava went back into the kitchen to help Emily unpack your bakeware, Beau paused as he looked at you, rubbing his chin as he contemplated whether he should say what he wanted to.
You clocked that deliberation on his face. You raised an expectant brow.
“What, you thinking about my fishnets too?” you teased.
His lips tugged at a smirk. “You telling me you still have those? Because—”
“As a matter of fact, I do. If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll model ‘em for you,” you said, wiping the cardboard dust off your hands before you leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Hmm, consider me on my best behavior then,” Beau said as he held you back. He wanted to revel in the fact that his living room was packed to the brim with boxes of all sizes, filled with the pieces of your life that you were willing to fit with his. But…
“Hey, I know you agreed to move in for safety reasons, but I hope it’s what you want, too,” he said.
Your amusement faded. You softened, took his face between your hands, and leaned up for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his hair a few times. Each new kiss lingered more, and meant more, until you pulled away enough that he could see the truth in your eyes.
“I’m doing this because you’re my mate, and I want to be with you,” you said, and your smile grew. “You may not be able to cook worth a damn, but you do give good wakeup calls.”
He burst into deep chuckles as he ducked his head. Your gentle hands stopped him from hiding, but you did feel his smile against your lips, and his strong hands kneading your ass.
Ava was about to ask you where you wanted your giant-ass Kitchen Aid mixer, but she paused in the living room doorway, arms crossed with fond amusement as she watched you and the sheriff being all disgustingly domestic.
She was happy to see you smile again after the funeral for Lucy and her family two weeks ago. Already you seemed more like yourself here, even if in her heart, part of her twinged with a kind of loss.
She knew it didn’t really mean she was losing you. It just meant that things were changing again, for you and for her.
Later that evening, you all had made a sizeable dent in the unpacking process. Beau was already considering moving into a bigger apartment after his lease was up—maybe even a house, if the two of you could afford it. But for now, this was a good start.
He finished up tying off the trash from packing material and empty Chinese takeout boxes, getting ready to bring it down the hall to the trash chute. You and Ava were at the front door, hugging one another goodbye.
“Thanks for all your help,” you said, blinking past a sting in your eyes. “Not just today, but always.”
“Always,” she said, smiling. “That’s a good word.”
You laughed as you pulled back. “Be careful going home.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty late. How about I follow you home? Officer’s escort,” Beau said.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m sure you're tired,” she said, but you cut her off with a wave of your hand.
“No, that’s a good idea. Beau, please follow her. Make sure she gets there safe,” you said, giving her a meaningful look. Now wasn’t the time to be polite rather than cautious. You wouldn’t put it past the Daltons to hurt someone close to you, even if they weren’t planning to testify against the brothers in the upcoming trial.
Ava finally conceded, and you got Beau to promise you that he’d be safe too before he followed her out. That left you with Emily after she finished taking a shower. It was nice of her to spend her last week in Helena helping you and Beau with the move, before she went to New York to settle into her new dorm room and start her classes at NYU.
The two of you made popcorn, got comfortable on the living room sofa, and put on one of the romcoms you couldn’t get Beau to watch with you—at least, not without him “accidentally” falling asleep.
“Ooh, running low,” you said after peeking into the popcorn bowl. “Want me to pop another bag?”
Emily shook her head. “No, I’m good.”
Her glance at you lingered with a half-formed question, with something she’d been thinking about, but hadn’t gotten the courage to tell you.
You noticed that very familiar look, and it almost made you smile. Like father like daughter.
“What’s up?” you asked.
“Nothing,” she said, even though that was definitely not her nothing face. Eventually, what she really wanted to say spilled out. “I just…wanted to ask how you were doing. I mean, I don’t think I ever actually said I was sorry about your friend, Lucy.”
Your breath caught between your parted lips. You slowly nodded.
“Thank you,” you said.
“What was she like?” Emily asked.
You paused the movie so you could think. You wondered if you’d actually known the real woman underneath the scars of her circumstances.
“She was…” You hesitated. “Lucy was the first person I met when I woke up in that hellhole. I was shellshocked, terrified. She was calm. She didn’t try to comfort me or lie to me to try and make it seem like this was some kind of sick family or anything. We weren’t sister wives. We were servants.”
Slaves, was what you wanted to say, but you were also careful about what you shared with an eighteen-year-old. Already you wondered if you were saying too much, exposing her to things she didn’t need to know.
Emily was listening intently though, her brown eyes slightly wide, her brows knitted with sympathy.
“She told me the truth about where we were, how to try and survive,” you continued, swallowing past the bile of those memories.
Don’t talk back. Don’t look them in the eye. They’ll see the fight in you, and they’ll figure out how to break it.
“But at the same time, she could be…funny, and sweet,” you said, smiling a little. “She grew up in a conservative Baptist family. She told me when she was around ten, her mom took her to the mall. Lucy got bored waiting for her mom while she smell tested the entire clearance section at Yankee Candle, so she wandered into the next store over. Her mom caught her in the panty section in Victoria Secret.”
Emily started to smile. “What did she do?”
“Oh, Luce was like a deer in headlights. She freaked out and just stuffed her hand in her pocket so her mom wouldn’t see what she was looking at, and she got dragged out of the store,” you laughed, just remembering the way Lucy impersonated her mom’s native Tennessee drawl, lecturing her in the car for twenty minutes. “But when she got home, she realized what was still in her pocket. A red, lacey thong.”
Emily laughed in disbelief. “She accidentally stole panties?”
“She was a panty stealer,” you giggled. “I didn’t blame her. A scrap of fabric for almost $15 each?”
“Or more,” Emily said knowingly. “The nicer ones go up to like, $20.”
You nodded in agreement, though you smiled, wondering if Beau knew his daughter was shopping at Vicky’s. You decided you wouldn’t be the one to break his heart on that one.
“Anyway, my point is that Lucy…she never lost that soft part of her heart,” you said, even as sorrow lodged in your throat, and colored your voice. Your eyes burned with tears you would slowly wipe away.
You could only hope that now, she was finally, truly free.
Her funeral gave you a new conviction. You were going to do whatever you could to make sure that the people who killed her had their lives taken from them too.
Moving in with Beau made it that much easier for him to take you to work in the morning, but picking you up in the afternoon was sometimes difficult for him, depending on what he was dealing with at work.
Come Monday, you rehashed a similar discussion as he parked in front of the Dewell & Hoyt office.
“I don’t want to keep you waiting, so if I get held up, Cassie agreed to cover for me on taking you home,” he said.
You sighed. “I do have a car, babe. I can just drive myself, and you won’t have to worry about taking me home. I’ll even text you when I get to work.”
Beau shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s either this or Witness Protection, and obviously I don’t trust Shaffer or the fucking Feds to get that part right.”
“You don’t even trust one of your officers to follow me anymore?” you asked.
Again, Beau was obstinate.
“I’ll worry less knowing for certain that you’re safe,” he said. He reached for your hand, squeezing gently, but his expression was firm. “I promised you that, and this is the only way I feel is right. Until this is over, it’s best if you don’t go anywhere alone.”
You wanted to push back a little on that, but again, you remembered Lucy, and that horrible image they wanted you to see. The stubborn protest died in you. This wasn’t about taking away your independence; it was about saving your life. And it was about making it to the witness stand next spring.
So, you nodded in agreement.
After he kissed you goodbye and watched you walk into the office safely, Beau released a deep breath, if not the tension from his shoulders. He and Cassie had installed the new security software and better surveillance cameras in and outside the building, so that gave him another modicum of peace.
But his phone was already buzzing with the tug of his responsibilities and his badge. So he pulled out of the parking lot and went to meet them as he answered the call.
“Morning, Poppa Smurf. What do ya got?”
Meanwhile, you came into work to find that Denise had brought in a homemade quiche for breakfast. Oh, how you loved that her love language was food.
Cassie was already doing the legwork on a case of a divorcee’s missing jewelry—a vintage set of gold earrings, necklace, and rings worth nearly $10,000. She suspected her ex-husband, of course. She thought she saw one of the rings on his new girlfriend.
You and Denise spent the day calling pawn shops and jewelry stores while Cassie did her due diligence digging deeper on the husband himself.
Around noon, Denise suggested pausing for lunch.
“Ooh, how about we order from that Jewish deli down the street?” she suggested. “I can place the order online, but would you mind picking it up so I can man the phone?”
You were ready to agree on the reflex of being a helpful assistant, but you hesitated from your seat at your desk. Beau’s warning reared up to the forefront of your mind. Don’t go anywhere alone.
“Oh, it’s not far. It’s just right down the street and around the corner to the left,” Denise said.
“Right, it’s just, um…” you trailed, biting the inside of your lip. Before you started to make the slightly embarrassing explanation on why you couldn’t do such a simple favor, Denise raised a placating hand and shook her head at herself.
“Wait, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I almost forgot the whole reason why Beau’s been dropping you off and picking you up,” she said.
You tried in vain to smile it away. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll just call them back and ask for delivery,” she said. “I’d rather not leave you here alone either.”
You nodded, glancing down at your folded hands. “Thanks.”
Denise eyed you for a moment. Then, she beckoned you over to her desk.
“Come ‘ere a sec,” she said.
You got up from your seat and obliged curiously. She showed you a small key that she kept in a box of paperclips on her desk, and she unlocked the middle drawer. Inside was a loaded .22 caliber gun.
“I know we’ve got a new fancy security system now, but I’ve learned that sometimes, nothing beats the classics,” she said. And she laid a hand on your arm. “If you ever feel unsafe, you know where this key is. Do you know how to shoot?”
You nodded reluctantly. “Beau started teaching me last month.”
“Good,” she said. “Keep practicing.”
Your knee bounced as you swiveled with boredom in your desk chair. Beau was almost an hour late picking you up from work. He texted you with his apologies, saying he was running late from a robbery turned literal highway chase. The perps caused an accident with three other cars.
“Is he on the way?” Cassie asked, when she came back from locking up the back of the office. Denise had already left to make it in time for a yoga class.
You shook your head. “I’m not sure. I think he’s still tied up down there.”
“Okay, how about I take you home then,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you here.”
“Are you sure? I can wait,” you said. You felt bad about making her go out of her way, even though you knew she and Beau had already agreed on this system last week.
“Don’t even worry about it. Come on,” she said with a smile.
It allowed you to soften. Even in these small things, it was hard for you not to feel like you were the charity case people saw when you were a kid. Now, you tried to remind yourself that people like Cassie and Denise weren’t just helping you because Beau was your mate. They were doing it because they cared about you, as your friends.
The thought somehow led you back to a bit of guilt when you looked over at Cassie as she drove through afternoon traffic.
“Hey, um, at the risk of making this awkward, I do feel like I have to thank you for something else,” you said.
Cassie eyed you. “What’s that?”
“About Jenny,” you said. “I know she’s your best friend, but you’ve been a good friend to me and Beau too. I know the whole…situation here put you in a difficult spot.”
She smiled wryly. “Thanks, but honestly, I’ve been rooting for you two. As much as I love Jenny, I could see that was going to end messy sooner or later. And not just because they work together.”
You nodded a little, but if you were honest, the thought still poked at your jealous streak. It probably had more to do with your own insecurities at this point, because neither Beau nor Jenny had given you reason to distrust them so far. You just couldn’t help it.
“I appreciate that,” you said. And, after a moment of hesitation, “How is she? Jenny, I mean.”
Cassie tempered the knowing edge of her lips. “She’s fine. But you can ask what you really want to ask though.”
You shook your head in begrudging amusement. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the literal private investigator could read you so easily.
“Do you think she still loves him?” you asked.
Cassie hummed in contemplation. She and Jenny hadn’t talked about this in a while, but Cassie knew her well enough to hazard a guess. She would give you the truth, too.
“Part of her still might,” Cassie said. “But she wouldn’t try to pursue him now. Before you came into the picture, her problem with Beau was the walls he put up, even with the people he supposedly trusted the most. I have a feeling that he’s let you behind them.”
You considered that with a nod. “Yeah, he has.”
“Did he tell you what happened last summer, with Emily?” she asked.
Again, you nodded. “He still blames himself. But he’s been drinking less, and sleeping more, so I think there’s progress there. …He even agreed to start seeing a therapist.”
Hopefully for his older wounds too, you thought.
Cassie’s brows rose in surprise.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “But that whole blaming himself thing? That’s why he’s doing so much to protect you now, you know.”
That, you also knew.
Beau had done a lot for you. That was the understatement of the year. Every day, he was thinking about your safety and wellbeing more than his own.
So, you were thinking that he deserved something good in return.
He could feel his joints creaking when he got out of the car. His neck and shoulders bore the brunt of it, though even his right elbow and wrist—a combination of research at his computer, eye strain from paperwork, and full-body fatigue from a twelve-hour shift: seven to seven.
Beau's caseload hadn’t gotten any lighter. And any spare moment he had over the past few weeks, he’d put toward safeguarding his apartment and the office over at Dewell & Hoyt. He even had a meeting with his building’s manager to upgrade the hallway surveillance cameras, as well as a new security system for the front and back doors. Even if the cost came out of his own pocket, he wasn’t taking no for an answer on this one.
He was satisfied, though, when punching in the new code to his apartment door successfully unlocked it. It had taken him a couple of tries on the installation, but he wouldn’t be pressed to admit that Cassie gave him a helping hand with the instructions.
However, he now found himself walking into what seemed like an empty apartment, even after he called your name and dumped his wallet and keys on a stand by the front door. The place was dim, just one lamp in the living room to light his way to the bedroom. A warmer light and the smell of burning candles drew him in.
He took off his jacket, once again calling your name more questioningly. Your scent was close…
He walked into the bedroom, but he had to stop short at the doorway. He caught sight of you in the bathroom, finishing off your lipstick. When you stepped out, his gaze drew from your cheeky smile, down to a sexy dress you hadn’t worn in front of him before, finishing him off with the tallest pair of heels he’d ever seen on you.
“Uh…” he swallowed, his throat bobbing as he struggled for coherency. A slow grin pulled at his lips. “Did I forget my own birthday?”
You bit your lip against a bubble of laughter.
“No,” you said. Your voice was smooth, your steps purposeful as you made your way toward him.
“Your birthday?” he guessed. His hands molded to your waist and slid around to the small of your back as you stepped into his orbit. “Anniversary?”
Your hands slipped up his arms and ran over every tense muscle up to his neck. He breathed in deep, already succumbing to your touch.
“None of the above, Sheriff, but I know you’ve been working hard,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m thinking we can take a break, go to this nice restaurant in downtown. I got us a reservation for 8:30.”
You traced along his jawline with your nail, scratching through his beard on the way to his chin. You tapped there twice.
“You can have your one glass of whiskey. I can have my glass of wine, some good food, and then after, I’d like to come home and have my Alpha bend me over the kitchen table and knot me like a gentleman,” you said.
If that wasn’t enough, the way your eyes slid up to his with promise, that sly turn of your lips—it all had him hardening in his jeans. His grip flexed around your hips.
“You know what, darlin’,” Beau said. His voice deepened with the slightly rougher edge of his Alpha. “I’m thinking we can just skip to that part, and book enough time to do it twice.”
You blushed a little and laughed lightly, encouraging his grin.
“You think you can accomplish all that on an empty stomach?” you teased. His head tilted in mock contemplation.
“Hmm, you’ve got a point there,” he said. “Plus, you’ve gone through all the trouble of putting on this pretty dress.”
“And making the reservation,” you pointed out.
He acknowledged that with another hum and a nod as he felt the slightly rugged state of his beard.
“I’m gonna need a shower and a shave real quick,” he realized.
You rubbed the back of your hand against his raspy cheek, and you smiled.
“You can skip the shave,” you said, just before you leaned up to steal a kiss.
You succeeded in knocking the very thought out of his head.
Beau pulled his Jeep up to Lucca’s with ten minutes to spare. While climbing out carefully in your heels, you noticed that this was the same plaza as Beau’s favorite diner.
“Oh, wow. Talk about competition,” you said, pointing out Tonya’s right across the parking lot. “That’s where I got the pie! Ooh, we should go there for lunch sometime.”
Beau smiled at your excitement. He wrapped an arm around you, letting his hand fall into its usual place along the small of your back as you two went up to the more upscale restaurant.
“Well, while I agree with you that Donno over there makes the best sandwiches in Montana, I don’t think I’ve ever told you about him and the owner’s shady come up, have I?” he said, more quietly near your ear.
You frowned. “No. How shady are we talking?”
“Drug cartel kinda shady,” he said. “Formerly, but still. Tonya didn’t exactly make her money in pies and real estate. And her faithful lackey is, uh, more of a jack of all trades. Thankfully he seems to be focusing on his newfound culinary gifts.”
“Oh…I guess that means we can’t go there for lunch,” you said, half joking. You’d really liked that strawberry rhubarb.
Beau quirked his head. “Well, maybe we just make sure I’m with you.”
He meant to open the door of the restaurant for you, but you grabbed his free hand and got him to wait a moment.
“You’re not just my bodyguard, you know. That’s what tonight is about,” you said.
Beau smiled, but he didn’t soften.
“I appreciate that, but until this is over, that’s exactly what I am,” he said. Though he tried to temper your frown with a squeeze of your hand. “Come on. I’m starving.”
You tried to let it go for now, but you were worried for him too. The Daltons clearly had reach if they were able to pay someone off for the location of Lucy’s safe house—either within the county clerk’s office or an official in the Witness Protection program itself. It wasn’t much of a stretch to try and strike at Beau, his team, or even Ava, if it meant stopping you from testifying.
The last thing you wanted to do tonight was talk about them, let alone the trial, but the thought was difficult to shake loose, even through drinks and appetizers.
Eventually though, Beau’s usual (ridiculous) sense of humor distracted you enough that you began to relax and enjoy this. A different thought struck you then.
Six months.
It had been six months since that night in the casino—since your souls touched, and you and Beau discovered what you would become to one another.
True mates. Fated. Whatever anyone wanted to call it, it was the day you met the man who would become your home.
As it turned out, tonight was an anniversary after all.
Despite being happily full, you felt lighter after dinner, a zip of anticipation running through you. Dessert was soon to come.
It was almost 10:00 p.m. by the time you and Beau got back to the car, but he frowned, realizing he was missing something important after fishing out his keys from his pocket.
“Shit, think I left my wallet inside,” he said.
“Toss me the keys. My feet are starting to kill me in these,” you said, leaning more heavily on the back of his car so you could take some weight off one ankle, then the other. Now you knew why you rarely wore this pair.
Beau smirked and gave you the car keys before he started jogging back to the restaurant. You pressed the unlock button while you circled around to the passenger side door. Your fingers closed around the handle, but just as you pulled it open, another firm hand shoved it closed.
You looked up with a gasp. Another man’s reflection was in the window, covered by some kind of mask.
Before you could turn and scream, his hand was covering your mouth in a bruising grip. You thrashed, fighting back with elbows and grappling and kicking at his shins, but the man knocked your head hard against the window. You nearly stumbled and fell, but he caught you, dragged you back up while you were disoriented. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and wrenched your head back—a ragged scream finally able to escape you.
He stood a head taller than you and had the strength of an Alpha, but not the scent of one. It wasn’t a detail you could hold onto though, not when his hand moved to your throat in a chokehold. he buried his nose against the back of your neck to scent you, making you shiver, and whimper.
“Remember me, Omega?” he asked.
Your eyes widened. If you could breathe, you would’ve gasped; you recognized his voice.
Felix. The man who tricked you and took you from the start. The one that managed to slip away when the police arrested Clay Dalton.
“Wish I had more time with you, like Lucy,” he said. “Gotta make this quick.”
He pressed you against the side of the car while he withdrew a knife. You only knew what it was when he moved his hand to frame your jaw. You felt the press of the blade against your neck, breaking the skin where it prepared to carve its way across.
Your scream forced its way against his hand on your mouth—until there was nothing.
The oppressive weight of a body was gone. You stumbled against the side of the car and sunk to the hard asphalt below, scraping your palm and part of your arm on the way down. You scrambled to sit up as you heaved for air, only to realize that a shorter, stockier Alpha had Felix in a grappling sleeper hold.
Your eyes widened, but you recognized him too.
Donno, from the diner. He was pummeling Felix’s face into the pavement.
Beau hadn’t known what he was seeing at first when he stepped out of the restaurant, but he soon realized it was happening near his car, and he felt your fear like a hot brand in his gut. He caught the acrid scent of it on the air, and his breath stilled in his lungs.
He ran toward the scene, quickly recognizing Donno in the fray with another Alpha dressed head to toe in black, wearing gloves and a mask.
You were on the ground, disheveled, bleeding, and terrified. Beau went to you first.
“Hey, hey, you okay?” he asked, bracing you by the shoulder and helping you stand. He quickly checked the wound on your neck to stem the bleeding, but thankfully it wasn’t too deep.
You nodded shakily, but you pointed to the Alpha that Donno was beating into the ground.
“That’s Felix!” you rasped. “He’s the one who escaped, who—”
You couldn’t get out the rest, but Beau’s eyes went wide with understanding. Within a trained second, he forced himself to move, guiding you to get into the passenger seat of his car and telling you to lock the door behind you.
Then, Beau could turn his attention to the way Donno had Felix on the ground. He was groaning and bloody as he clung to the waking world.
“Want me to finish it?” Donno asked.
Beau shot him a look, but it took more effort than he let on to shake his head.
“I’ve got it from here,” he said, crouching over Felix and grabbing him by his collar as fury rolled hot under his skin. “So you’re the Daltons’ fucking lap dog, huh? We’ve been looking for you. I’ve been looking for you.”
Felix gave a weak smirk, but he had strength enough to spit blood in Beau’s face.
He didn’t bother wiping it off. He just snapped a brutal punch that finished breaking Felix’s nose. Beau’s anger mounted to a boil, and he let go of another blow, then one more for good measure—until Felix was fully knocked unconscious. Beau let his body drop to the ground with disgust, rolling him over to cuff him.
Afterward, Beau wiped his face with his sleeve and his bloody fist on his pants. He grabbed his phone to called this into the station for pick-up. He would have to call Shaffer too.
But first, Beau looked back at Donno, who offered you his helping hand when you decided to get out of the car. You thanked him with a small smile.
His gaze cut away awkwardly, more comfortable in meeting the sheriff with a nod of begrudging respect.
“Thank you,” Beau said, as he wrapped his arms around you. You clung to him right back, your tears quietly staining his shirt.
Again, Donno just nodded. Even pie makers with a special set of skills appreciated a little acknowledgement, but not necessarily the attention from the people that came out of the restaurant to see what was going on.
“Can I go now?” he asked.
Beau hesitated, but he agreed. “I know where to find you for a statement.”
Donno shrugged.
“Yeah. She’s lucky. I was staying late doing inventory. Noticed the prowler,” he said, glancing toward Felix’s prone body. “He’s a fucking mouth-breather.”
And with that, Donno just walked back toward the closed diner and let himself back in. You and Beau shared a perturbed look. Your eyes soon filled with tears again.
Beau gently cupped your face as his gaze roamed down the rest of you to survey the damage. You watched a black ring form around his irises as he took in every mark along your skin that would likely become a bruise, including the bleeding wound at your neck. A deep growl rumbled deep in his throat, but he fought it down, brushing the tears from your cheeks.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked.
You shook your head, still trembling. Beau knew he’d have to address the crowd of onlookers, but for now, you were all he cared about, along with keeping an eye on Felix.
“All right,” Beau nodded. He held you close. “It’s gonna be okay.”
You rest your cheek against his chest. The sound of sirens grew in the distance. Tonight would be over soon enough, but your heart was far from being calm.
After the paramedics patched you up, Beau took you home in silence. He’d been prickly the entire rest of the night, even snapping at the first officer who approached you for your statement. Jenny had given him a warning look for that one, but you knew his Alpha was too close to the surface.
Your Omega was soothed by his protective nature, but with your more rational mind, you watched him as closely as he did you—if for different reasons.
You two later got ready for bed in silence. You intentionally changed in the bathroom alone, so you could take an inventory of yourself. Aside from your bruised skull, you had a butterfly bandage along the left side of your neck, and bruising around there too. More fingerprint bruises were forming along your jaw, and even your cheekbones from where you were grabbed.
You touched your neck delicately, wincing a little at the pain. You sighed.
Beau startled you a little with his knock on the door.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” you replied.
“Just need to brush my teeth,” he said.
“Okay, one sec.”
You quickly changed out of your dress and put on your pajamas before you let him come in. He didn’t look like he had any intention of finding his toothbrush. Not when he saw the way you were touching your neck, covering the bruising from his gaze.
“Can I see?” he asked, gesturing at you.
With another sigh, you let your hand fall. As you suspected, the mottled sight only upset him. He shook his head, and you both saw and felt the anger climbing back into his heart. You sensed it through the bond, pulsing the color of rust and blood.
“I’m okay, babe,” you said, taking his hands in yours.
“You shouldn’t go forward with testifying,” he said gruffly. “We’ve got another few months until the trial—”
“Then they win,” you replied. “The only way this ends is if they pay. For this. For Lucy. For the others who survived, and the ones who didn’t.”
Beau didn’t like it. He didn’t want to admit you were right either…but you were. He couldn’t make this decision for you, no matter how much he wanted to.
You brought his hands to your lips in a silent thank you.
On March 24, 2027, at 9:00 a.m., you were sworn in to give your testimony in front of the jury, the judge, and several others sitting in the wooden pews to watch. Beau was in the second row, watching intently. On his left was Ava. On the right was Emily, Cassie, Denise, Moe Poppernak, and even Jenny. She would be giving corroborative testimony later.
The courtroom was intimidating, but not as huge as it looked on TV. The look on Shaffer’s face told you that you were doing well so far after explaining, to the best of your knowledge, how you were kidnapped. But he was about to guide you into deeper waters.
“I know this may be difficult, but can you recount what your experience was at this ranch house owned by the Dalton family—the one you and other survivors called ‘the Farm’?”
“It wasn’t just us who called it that,” you said, glancing over at Clay Dalton. “Clay and his men called it that too.”
“Right. Because as Theresa testified, Clay was called the Shepherd, correct?” Shaffer asked.
You nodded. “That’s right. He was the main ringleader in the farmhouse out back, but Jack called the shots in the house,” you said. And with a deep to steel yourself, you reiterated what the jury had already heard from Theresa, Angie, and Carlos.
“If you made it to the Farm, you were either kept or sold. If you were kept at the main house, you were at the service of the Dalton brothers and the other people who worked for them. They would break you in various ways, then usually, one of them would claim you once your first heat came around, for the control, and their own enjoyment… They would cycle through women when they got bored, or…worse.”
“Worse?” the ADA prodded.
“Sometimes beatings would go too far,” you said. “Lucy told me that the girl who had my bed before me was named Lisa.”
Velasco, the Daltons’ defense attorney, piped up from their side of the courtroom.
“Objection. That’s hearsay, your Honor.”
“Lucy Hernandez would be testifying herself, your Honor, if the defendants hadn’t paid their cousin Felix to kill her and her entire family, just like the attempt on this young woman’s life six months ago,” Shaffer retorted, gesturing at you. “He’s already pled guilty to that affect, and will be testifying tomorrow.”
The reminder not only made you shift uncomfortably, but it rippled throughout the entire courtroom in a stir, including local press who were sitting in the pews, either furiously taking notes or making sure their recording devices were capturing it all.
Judge Callahan called for order, bringing her gavel down. Once the chatter and rumblings died out, she gestured at the ADA.
“Objection is overruled. Continue, Mr. Shaffer.”
“Thank you, your Honor.” He began again with you. “So, you were at the Farm for about two months. Were you claimed against your will as well?”
The question still made an unpleasant shiver run down your spine. Up until now, you had been avoiding looking at one particular Dalton. You knew that if you did, you’d likely see him smirking back at you.
“I was meant to be given to Jack,” you said. “But no. Thankfully, the police rescued me before that could happen.”
You refocused on Beau. He nodded back at you, giving you the support you needed. Because you knew it would only get more difficult from here.
“Were you, as you said, ‘broken’ by these men?” Shaffer asked.
You paused on answering the question. Not because you didn’t know the answer, but because you finally drew the courage to look over at the Defense. You did stare right into Jack Dalton’s smug smirk, but you managed to hold his gaze directly. Unflinching.
“They tried,” you said.
Over the next half hour, Beau was probably the one who suffered most while you explained the details of your abuse. You were violated and degraded in various ways over the course of two months, physically, emotionally, and to some extent, sexually. Most of it, Beau was hearing for the first time in your words, and in detail—not in vague implications left to the imagination.
You couldn’t allow yourself to look over at him to gauge his reaction. You didn’t need to. You felt it through the bond, heartbreaking and furious. You could imagine his teeth-grinding struggle to keep hold of his self-control. The man wore his heart on his sleeve, and you had a feeling that creaking sound was his clenched fists gripping the back of the wooden pew in front of him.
The Daltons had a team of lawyers from Velasco’s firm. They passed the baton to Amanda Grayson to cross-examine you. It was a smart tactic to have a woman question a woman; it was somehow less aggressive than a man questioning you on behalf of his male clients.
She stepped forward in her gray pantsuit and Luis Vuitton heels, folding her hands in front of her.
“I’m very sorry for what you went through,” she said, another calculated, hollow offering.
You just nodded in response.
“You were at the ranch house for about two months, but you testified that you were mostly kept in the house, not the barn house where you claim the worst of all this went on. In fact, you never saw the barn house. As a result, you never saw Jack or Ezra in the barn house. And you said that the windows were boarded shut, so you couldn’t see the street out front or in the back. You didn’t even know you were still in Montana.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere?” you asked wryly.
It made a few of the jurors smile.
Ms. Grayson noticed, with perceptive side-eye and an incline of her head.
“I’m coming to it,” she said. “Since you say you were so isolated, did you see, with your own eyes, that other Omegas were sold into prostitution? Or is that another thing your friend Lucy told you.”
“I know they were there,” you said firmly. “I also know that they were starved and beaten into submission before they were sold. I know that, because I would hear the ones that begged for it to stop.”
You worked through the emotion clogging your throat, regret and sorrow and memory. It all flashed through your mind in interconnected pieces, some of it in enough detail to overwhelm you. You paused, breathing deeply.
“Those nights that I was allowed to sleep, it was almost impossible to try. If I close my eyes now, I can still hear them.”
With angrier tears threatening to blur the room, your gaze shifted from the jury, to the Dalton brothers. Each one of them would know your face for the rest of their miserable lives.
“They're animals, Ms. Grayson. Every one of them,” you said. “They’re the ones who deserve to be treated like it.”
You would’ve been so satisfied to see the look in their eyes when the sentencing came, but Ezra and Jack, the last holdouts, became wise enough to make a deal with the ADA outside of court. That deal amounted to twenty-five to life without parole, instead of consecutive life sentences. If the death penalty was still in effect in Montana, they would’ve been prime candidates.
Regardless, it was finally over.
By June, you, Beau, and Emily were celebrating her first year down at NYU—and her summer vacation back home—with a road trip out of town. Beau drove you up to Mount Helena, where a lake house rental was waiting for you.
You could sense how happy he was on that drive. Sometimes he would check on Emily through the rearview mirror, watch her hum along to the radio. And then he would look at you, with that soft smile and crinkled crow’s feet around his eyes.
You smiled back and slipped your hand into his as you stared out at the miles and miles of vast Montana no man’s land, where only grass and trees and other wild things grew, and lived, and died under the sun. This was the kind of land that would never truly belong to anyone, no matter what kind of fence was hammered into the earth, or what body bled there.
It made you feel small, but it also soothed you to see it. There were still pure things in the world, and you were still here too. You hadn’t just survived the past year. You were living in it.
Saying goodbye to Emily last fall also meant that you and Beau had to find your rhythm together without her as a buffer. You’d had boyfriends before, but living with your mate was basically marriage without the piece of paper that proved it (yet).
You two inevitably argued about the little things, like who cleaned the bathroom last, and “who” ate the last of your ice cream. Not to mention, whose turn was it to cook dinner, and why, for God’s sake, do you keep squeezing the toothpaste from the middle rather than the bottom of the tube, sweetheart?
Well, you could admit to being guilty on the last one, but your ice cream was sacred. Beau had come to realize that one the hard way, when payback came in the form of his leftover pie.
Mild skirmishes aside, though, you were sometimes afraid to admit that you were actually, undeniably, painfully happy.
Like today.
The lake house itself was creaky and weathered and perfect. Emily went to claim her room straight away, like she was still a kid. But you and Beau took your time getting up the stairs to the master bedroom. It allowed both of you to take in its character, every whining floorboard and every tacky picture of a horse hung up on the wall.
As soon as you got into the bedroom, you rolled your suitcase to a stop and opened up all the curtains and windows.
Fresh mountain air filled your lungs. A soft, yet vibrant sunset dipped between ponderosa pine trees and melted into the lake in shades of rose gold and violet. But that wasn't the only thing giving you a measure of peace, especially as your mate’s arms wrapped around you from behind.
He kissed behind your ear and brushed his lips along your claim mark, making you smile and shiver in pleasure. A purr escaped you. Beau’s grin widened against your skin.
You reached back and grazed your fingers against the sensitive flesh still healing along his neck, marking your claim on him. Some Alphas wouldn’t allow it, thinking it too submissive. Beau saw it as just plain fair. You didn’t know that he had his grandmother’s ring in his pocket, freshly polished, waiting months for closure on an old chapter, and the right time for a new one. This was probably it, he thought.
“How do you feel?” he asked, a smooth rumble against your skin.
You glanced back at him over your shoulder as you squeezed his arms in affection. You considered his question with a deep breath of contemplation, and you rested your head against his. It didn’t take long for you to find an answer worth giving, because it was another undeniable truth.
“Free,” you said.
And you were.
AN: 🥹🧡 Do you feel free, friends? I know Beau has been far from our screens for a few years now, but I still have a soft spot for his character and for this story. I truly hope you've enjoyed it, and would love to know what you think!
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Summary: Jealousy is a vicious whip—especially when you're dating an artist. Yet you have some ideas to make sure his admirers get the message. He...is...yours.
Word Count: 6,879 words
Warnings: sexual content (18+, mdni), Rafayel calls reader "cutie", jealous reader, Thomas appearance, Talia appearance, Tara mention, Rafayel is once again obsessed with reader's perfume, Rafayel calls reader "sweet girl", Thomas is a nosy fucker but also a proud dad, can also be found on AO3
18+ Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, sex against a wall, bathroom sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (please do not do this), Rafayel is a bit of a sub but also a switch, implied that reader jerks Rafayel off while he drives (please do not do this either)
Notes: For his birthday, here is a Rafayel fic! (Fitting that this is my first L&DS fic to get posted; I'm a Raf & Sylus girlie at heart.) I've seen a few other concepts similar to this that inspired me to make a fic out of it. Not actually birthday themed, though!
☟ Continue below the fold ☟
Clothes were strewn about the bedroom, the man throwing them invisible in his closet. You perched on the edge of the bed, dismissing every option he suggested with barely a second thought.
Rafayel emerged from the depths of his walk-in closet, a frown on his face. As much as he hated these exhibitions, whining and begging you not to make him go, he couldn't recall a time you'd been this reluctant to give him a yes about his suit options—especially not when tonight's exhibition was "massively important."
"Cutie? You alright?"
You looked up from the outfit you'd been staring at on the floor, a suit in a lovely blue shade that he'd worn to the opera with you what felt like ages ago. "Hmm? Oh—yeah, I'm fine," you lied, trying to sit up straighter and bring a smile to your face. It felt more like a grimace.
Rafayel's face fell into a concerned pout. "I know you better than that," he chastised gently. He sat next to you on the bed, clothing forgotten. "What's wrong?"
You shrugged. You rubbed your arm awkwardly, unwilling to spit out the reason for your glum mood.
"Talk to me," Rafayel said, taking your hand. He brought your wrist to his mouth and kissed it.
He had a way of breaking down your walls, staring at you with those big, loving eyes. You sighed. "It's stupid," you mumbled.
Rafayel grinned at you. "Stupider then my antics?" he asked. You were reminded of him sitting in a hospital bed for an injury he didn't have, griping at you.
You shrugged again. "I...guess not," you said. "It's— Well, it's more embarrassing than..."
Rafayel flopped into your lap. "More embarrassing than me?" he gasped, a delicate hand to his chest.
You laughed. "No, that's not what I was going to say," you said, pulling his hand into yours. He smiled softly at you when you laced your fingers together.
You took a second to get your thoughts together, trying to come up with a way to make yourself sound less, well, jealous. But when the problem is jealousy...
Rafayel remained content in your lap, happily nuzzling your joined hands. The soft kiss he pressed to the back of your hand dragged you out of your contemplation and you blurted out: "I don't like the women that come to your exhibitions."
He raised his eyebrows at you and you flushed. You backtracked, trying to explain it better.
"Well, it's not that— What I mean is that I don't like the way they...fawn over you," you said, the words coming out bitter. You didn't notice the smile twitching on Rafayel's lips, even as he tried to fight it. "They act like they're coming to see your art, but they're just there to giggle over you! And I'm not being jealous, I just think they shouldn't be pretending they like your work when they clearly don't give a shit and they don't know a single thing about art!" You paused briefly, then huffed and threw yourself backward on the bed. Rafayel made a sound of displeasure at being displaced from your lap. "Alright, fine, I am jealous. They don't even know you, they don't really care about you or your work, but they prance around trying to get your attention because you're cute and famous and taken but they don't care about that part!"
You sat back up in a ridiculously over-exaggerated "prim and proper" pose, pretending to hold a glass of champagne. Your threw your voice up an octave and mimicked, "Oh, Mr. Rafayel! Mr. Rafayel! Please tell us so much about the kind of paint you used, Mr. Rafayel, we definitely want to know more and aren't just trying to get in your pants! And with your girlfriend right next to you, too!"
Rafayel laughed, unable to hide his chuckle behind his hand. You glared at him. "What?! That's what they all sound like!" You crossed your arms over your chest as you fell back onto the bed. Rafayel got comfortable next to you, propping his head up on his hand. "And they don't ever stop, even after you introduce me. Or, worse, when Thomas steps in and introduces me because some—some—some hussy is taking things too far!"
When it had become clear you had run out of words (for the moment), Rafayel draped his free arm over your middle and tugged you closer to him. "I never thought I'd see you get this worked up over something like this," he noted.
You sighed. "I normally wouldn't, I mean...I trust you, Raf, this isn't about you. It's about these girls treating our relationship like it's nothing when you... When you mean the world to me."
"Cutie," Rafayel murmured, voice tender. He kissed your cheek once, then twice. He nuzzled into you and, for a moment, the two of you basked in each other's warmth, eyes closed, oblivious to the rest of the world.
Eventually, Rafayel began poking your cheek until you opened your eyes. You glared lightly at him, only to receive a pout that made you fix your face.
"We could always not go tonight," he said, in the same husky tone he usually started this debate with. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and you knew he was ready to pull out all the stops to convince you.
You were tempted to just let him win. But the last time you'd caved so easily, Thomas had chewed your ears out as well as Rafayel's—for over two hours.
"Nuh uh," you said, shaking your head. "I promised Thomas we'd be there, and I'm not getting yelled at again for 'letting my personal feelings get in the way of a great artist's work!'"
Rafayel giggled—a true giggle that made your heart warm. "He would have been even angrier if he knew what we were really doing that night," he teased, his fingers toying surreptitiously with the waist of your pants.
Heat coiled in your belly. Your eyes met Rafayel's; his gaze was darker, alluring like the sea before a hurricane hit. "All the more reason for us to go tonight," you forced yourself to say. He groaned, his arm flopping dramatically back onto the bed. You rolled your eyes, "He'll call and call and call until we answer, and if we don't answer, he's gonna show up at the door to drag you to the exhibition himself." You rolled over and cupped his cheek; he leaned into the touch. "Raf, tonight's important. You have critics coming and an interview set up. You have to be there, it's not one of the nights you can get away with skiving off."
After a moment, you felt the bed dip as Rafayel rolled off of it. He went back to his closet and started digging through it again. "Fine, fine," he sighed. "But if we're going, we have to match tonight." He pulled a large box off of a shelf and brought it over to you. You could see the name of an expensive dress brand he liked to spoil you with printed on the box's side.
"Raf, what...?"
He held it out to you. "I was waiting for a special occasion to give this to you," he said, a tad shy, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But I have a suit that matches it, so..."
You pulled the box into your lap and tugged at the ribbon binding it together until it fell away. You shimmied the lid off and unfolded the paper hiding the dress from your view. You lifted it out of the box and gasped.
The dress was a deep claret red, embroidered with flame lilies. The short bell sleeves were made from claret chiffon, delicate and flowy. You slipped the fabric of the dress between your fingers; it moved like water and shimmered under the light.
"Rafayel," you breathed. "Oh, Raf, it's beautiful, thank you!" You dropped the dress onto the bed, carefully, and threw your arms around Rafayel's neck. He laughed, holding you tightly around the waist.
"We can match tonight," he said softly, "and I'll keep you on my arm. Tonight, everyone will know I am yours."
I am yours. Something about the way he said it had butterflies flapping around in your heart. You pulled back to stare at him, wanting to ask...but you weren't even sure what you wanted to ask him.
You didn't protest as Rafayel turned back to the closet. He pulled. out a shirt that matched your new dress. "What do you think, cutie?"
You thumbed over the shirt. It was made from the same material as your dress. "I like it," you said. You nudged him toward his mirror. "Put it on!"
The two of you helped each other dress. Rafayel laced up the back of your dress and adjusted your sleeves so they lay nicely on your shoulders; you helped him button up the shirt and looped the fancy tie around his throat.
You sat side by side at his vanity, adding your final touches. You matched your jewelry and your makeup; Rafayel was happy to help you clip your necklace on. Once it was secure, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your neck, just below your ear. For several long moments, you admired each other in the mirror. Then you got back to applying your makeup, using a darker shade for your lip that would complement the dress.
Looking at the pale expanse of Rafayel's neck, you suddenly had an idea.
You applied a fresh layer of the lipstick. "Come here, love," you murmured, beckoning him closer. He obeyed, letting you tug him down. He smiled when he realized what you were doing and did not stop you as you adjusted his collar and moved his shirt to the side.
Your lips touched Rafayel's skin. You kissed his neck a little harder than necessary, ensuring it would leave a lipstick stain.
The mark left behind when you pulled away was perfect, complete with a movie-style sound of a kiss. It was a dark, easily noticed imprint of your lips, only partially covered when his collar was flipped up.
A soft, almost shocked gasp left Rafayel's lips—you wouldn't have even heard it if his mouth hadn't been right next to your ear. A louder sound, closer to a moan, slipped out of his mouth when you pressed a second, softer kiss closer to his collarbone, leaving a mark for only your eyes to see when you pulled his shirt off later.
"There," you murmured. You covered it with a light tapping of setting powder. "Now they'll know just how mine you are."
"Silly girl," Rafayel whispered. "They'd know just from how I look at you."
He leaned in and stole a kiss, his hand sliding down your body. He slipped it between your knees, trying to part your legs, when you pulled away. You reapplied your lipstick and slipped the tube into your clutch, along with your perfume and your mascara.
Rafayel stared at you with a dazed, almost lost expression. You smiled at him. "Come on, Raf, we'll be late if we don't leave now," you said, feigning ignorance to how turned on he was.
You took his hand as the two of you left the bedroom, headed for his car and the exhibition, a perfect kiss on your boyfriend's neck.
~❊~
People milled about the art gallery, a low hum of conversation in the air. They pointed out small details, leaned as close as they could to paintings before a guard told them to back away, marveled at the cost of each piece.
You and Rafayel stood next to Thomas in a well-lit corner of the room, your hand resting in Rafayel's crooked elbow. A steady flow of conversation between yourselves and admirers of Rafayel's art kept you alert and awake, some part of you always keen to be his bodyguard. But when there was a lull between conversationalists, you rested your head briefly on Rafayel's shoulder; every time, he bent down to kiss the crown of your head.
The difference between this exhibition and the others was astounding. You took gleeful pride in the number of times peoples' eyes dipped to Rafayel's neck, then to you, made the connection, and blushed, averting their eyes quickly.
"Mr. Rafayel!" A woman's voice cut over the din. Rafayel perked up, searching for the voice. You caught a glimpse of his Auntie Talia standing by one of his pieces—one he'd made about Lemuria.
Rafayel quickly excused himself from the conversation with his current guests and extricated his arm from yours. You nodded as he whispered, "I'll be back soon." He kissed your cheek, lingering a moment, and a woman who had been blatantly ignoring your mark on his neck to keep flirting with him turned a very deep shade of red.
For a few more minutes, she and her companion—her sister, you guessed—spoke stiltedly to Thomas about Rafayel's art, Thomas doing most of the talking to fill in their silences. Eventually, the two women shuffled away awkwardly.
Peaceful silence fell over you and Thomas. After a moment, he cleared his throat and gestured toward Rafayel with his chin. "So."
You barely kept back a sigh. "Yes, Thomas?"
"You left your mark on him, I see," he said, barely able to restrain the mirth in his tone. "For the whole world to see?"
Your eyes picked Rafayel out in the crowd as he spoke animatedly to his aunt. You smiled; even at a distance, your mark was visible on his throat.
"Yes," you said, a tad smug. "Yes, I did. Problem?"
He shook his head after a moment. "No," he said, though his tone was a tad too light.
You rolled your eyes, pulling your perfume out from your clutch. "Spit it out, Thomas. 'It's unprofessional!' 'You're risking his reputation and yours!' 'The media will have a field day!' Did I get it right?" You reapplied your perfume to your wrists and your neck, dabbing at it to spread it more. You slipped it back into your clutch, turning your attention back to Thomas.
He laughed. "No, although I suppose that's all true. We're just...going to have to work a lot harder to sell his paintings without a bunch of smitten women to sell them to."
You scoffed. "There will still be smitten women—except now they know they haven't got a chance. Who knows, maybe more women will be buying his paintings, desperate to have a piece of the great Rafayel."
Thomas fixed you with a teasing look. "You have the piece they all want."
It took a moment for it to register. You gasped softly and lightly thwacked Thomas' arm. "You had better be talking about his heart, Thomas."
He chuckled. "I am not."
You slapped Thomas' arm again, your cheeks burning.
"What are you two playing at?" Rafayel's voice interrupted. I turned to face him, pleased that he was back and mortified that he had chosen now to return. It increased when you saw Talia at Rafayel's side.
Though a laugh, Thomas started, "Your—"
"Nothing," you said, quickly cutting him off. "Auntie Talia!"
"Hello, my dear!" she said, smiling as she hugged you. "How have you been?"
As you caught up with Talia, filling her in on the most recent trip you and Rafayel had taken, showing her pictures of Tara's new cat, and listening to her tell you vaguely embarrassing stories about Rafayel, the man himself practically clung to you. He returned your hand to his arm and leaned into you.
Rafayel's breath hitched all of a sudden. He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily; you realized he'd caught scent of your perfume. Your stomach flipped at the memory of the last time he'd taken special interest in your perfume...
But he remained relatively calm. He slipped his arm around your waist and kept you tucked against his side, his eyes fixed on you. He ignored the people trying to engage him in conversation.
Thomas, upon noticing this, caught their attention and explained quietly that Mr. Rafayel was taking care of important business. Anyone with eyes, however, would know his attention was solely on you.
And you couldn't deny that it made you absolutely giddy.
A young woman—the girl who'd thrown herself at Rafayel at the last exhibition, and who'd been the breaking point in your jealousy, you realized with a start—pushed her way into the conversation. Thomas' attempts to steer the conversation away from Rafayel's personal life and back to art failed repeatedly. This time, she had no qualms about revealing she knew nothing about art, choosing instead to pry.
"Mr. Rafayel," the woman crooned, "I'd love to know more about your artistic process."
Rafayel's eyes narrowed quickly. "My artistic process? What about it?" His voice was flat. Talia raised a brow.
"Well," she said, wrapping her hand suggestively around her champagne flute, "where do you get your ideas from? What in your life inspires you?" She took a sip, subtly licking the rim of the glass. You felt your eye twitch.
"Each individual painting's inspiration is explained on its plaque," Rafayel drawled dismissively. She continued to stare at him, lips fixed in a pout. His fingers tightened on your hip and he brought you even closer to him. "But if you must know, much of my work is inspired by this lovely girl right here." He pressed a soft but lingering kiss to your jaw, one that caught yourself, Talia, and Thomas off guard. "I owe so much to my love."
Laying it on thick, you thought, but all thoughts were wiped from your brain when Rafayel turned your face to him with his fingers on your chin. He kissed you softly, shifting his position to make the lipstick on his neck visible. Possessive, yet obedient. You tried not to make it obvious you were pressing your thighs together at the thought.
The woman's expression dropped for a half a second. She brought her smile back quickly and all but sneered, "Well, isn't that cute." Now it was her eye that twitched as she looked at you, her voice shrill.
You smiled up at Rafayel, barely containing a giggle. You put your hand on his chest. "Oh, he's being modest," you purred. "Rafayel's the genius."
"I am not," he said, and you got the sense it was meant for you as much as it was the young woman. "Half of the paintings hanging in this room wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."
You cast her a quick glance, feeling your cheeks flush at the warmth in his eyes. "You know how men are when they're in love," you said, playing the part of an awkward girlfriend in public. Secretly, however, a thrill had gone up your spine. The things I'll do to you when we get home...
Rafayel squeezed your hip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Talia smile.
Thomas cleared his throat. "Is there a particular painting you'd like to ask Mr. Rafayel about?" he asked, his gaze flicking between the woman and the pair of you. It appeared he'd figured out what was going on. "I'm sure it's all too easy to generalize when asked such a broad question." He chuckled awkwardly.
She cast Thomas a withering glance. "I'm fine, thank you." She turned on her heel and stalked off.
A moment of silence fell. You leaned into Rafayel, practically melting into his arms.
"Well," Thomas said after a moment, "she seemed lovely." He glanced at the kiss on Rafayel's throat. "I'm beginning to understand your possessive streak."
Talia laughed. She rested a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't you worry, dear. He only has eyes for you."
"Oh, I know," you assured her, your gaze on Rafayel. You were sure you looked like you wanted to eat him alive—and he knew it, judging from the redness of his ears.
Quiet swept over the whole room as two people entered: a man and a woman, both dressed for business, both with notepads. A cameraman followed. You recognized them as renowned art critics. They'd given Rafayel trouble in the past, praising his art but denouncing him for a lackadaisical attitude.
You felt him nip at the junction of your shoulder and your neck while you were distracted. Now what would they think about this...? You didn't want to find out in the morning paper.
Thomas' intake of breath was audible. He adjusted his suit jacket nervously. "They're here," he said quietly to Rafayel, who was barely paying attention. Even so, the tension in your little group heightened.
"Hmm?" he asked, slowly dragging his mouth and eyes away from you.
Talia glanced toward the reporters. Her eyes darkened and you trusted she knew their reputation with her nephew. "I'll let you take care of your official business," she said to Rafayel. "I've kept you for too long as it is." She extracted a promise out of the two of you to attend her next performance, then disappeared into the crowd.
Thomas turned on his heel, facing Rafayel immediately. As if on instinct, he started adjusting his lapels. "Alright. This is incredibly important, Rafayel, you know that as well as I do. It's a miracle they agreed to do another review for you, and we can't give them anything negative at all to report on— Rafayel, are you even listening?"
You glanced up at your boyfriend. His eyes were a little glazed and were once again locked on you. You recognized that look.
You cupped his cheek. "Raf, sweetie, the critics—"
He leaned into your touch, nose pressed to your wrist. There was a pleading look in his eyes when he looked up at you through his lashes.
"Rafayel?" Thomas questioned.
You glanced back at him. Over his shoulder, the critics were approaching.
Rafayel tugged on your arm. A mischievous glint had entered his eye. You gaped at him. "Now?" you whispered. He nodded. You stared at him for a second.
"When was the last time we had a little fun?" he whispered to you. He glanced at the approaching critics. "They can wait a few seconds for their star artist to...freshen up, can't they?"
Some part of you knew this was a bad idea. The rest of you was too easily swayed by that sweet, tempting tone in Rafayel's voice. You caved far quicker than you would have liked to admit.
"Thomas," you said over your shoulder, "tell them Rafayel will be right with them. I'm just... I'm gonna go give him a pep talk, okay? Freshen him up a little."
He glanced at Rafayel, uncertain. "Is that why he's like this? Nerves?"
"Something like that," you muttered under your breath. You grabbed Rafayel's hand and dragged him into the hallway. Rafayel was more than happy to follow you, a spark in his eye. You found a bathroom, shoved the door open, checked that the stalls were empty, and locked it behind you.
You turned to Rafayel. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" You squealed a second later as he gathered you in his arms and pushed up against the wall. He nuzzled into your neck, groaning at the smell of the perfume there.
Rafayel nipped again at the spot he'd been sucking on when the critics arrived. You let out a soft moan. Good idea or not, he had you hook, line, and sinker.
He came up for air, stared at you a second, and then crashed his lips into yours. "Need you," he moaned into your mouth. His tongue prodded at the seam of your lips. "Please."
You wrapped your arms around his neck. "You have me," you promised him. "But the critics..."
Rafayel pulled away long enough to make eye contact. "I'll be quick," he promised. Then a lopsided smirk appeared on his face and he added, "Ish."
You laughed. "Come on," you breathed, already pulling your dress up to your waist. "Take me how you want."
He groaned at the sight of you, slipping his fingers into your panties, pushing them to the side. He found your clit and pressed down on it. He locked eyes on you as he began rubbing it the way you liked best. You moaned, throwing your head back. Rafayel moved quickly to cushion your head with his other hand, protecting it from the tile wall.
"Careful," he breathed. "Don't hurt yourself, cutie."
You bucked your hips. "C'mon, please," you whimpered. "Need your fingers, Raf."
He laughed. "You don't even want me to warm you up?"
You gripped his wrist and moved his hand lower. The two of you gasped in unison as his fingers came into contact with the wetness pooled in your entrance.
"Fuck, sweet girl," Rafayel cooed. "Is this from earlier? Did showing off to that girl that I'm yours get you excited?"
Your hand slipped down his body. You rubbed over the bulge in his black pants. "Got you excited, too, baby."
Rafayel whined, leaning into your touch. He moaned softly as you squeezed him. "Cutie," he whispered, nuzzling against you. He looked down, watching as he pushed his fingers into you.
You took them easily, blushing at the wet squelch you made. He quirked his fingers inside you, searching for the spongey place that made you moan. When he found it, your legs tried to clamp shut.
Rafayel sandwiched himself between them. "Ah, ah, ah," he chastised. He brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles over it while he plunged his fingers in and out of you. "Don't push me away, cutie."
He's remarkably controlled for a man whose face is as red as a tomato... you thought.
Whining, you leaned into his arm, his hand still between your head and the wall. You kissed his wrist. "Can I touch you? Please?"
He nodded frantically.
You fumbled with the zipper of his pants, then his buttons. You shoved his pants down low enough on his hips that you could pull his cock out of his boxers. He whimpered; gone was the control you had just been admiring.
He was already leaking, milky pre-cum dribbling down his length. His tip was flushed a deep, needy shade of pink. He twitched under your admiring gaze.
"Pretty," you murmured, admiring him for a moment. You trailed a finger up the underside of his cock, eliciting a full-body shiver. His fingers faltered for only a second inside you before he resumed stroking your walls. "So damn pretty, Raf, you always are."
You spit into your hand. He gasped aloud as you wrapped your hand around him. Slowly, you moved in your hand in time with his fingers. The schlick sound of your hand on his cock, moving easily with spit and pre-cum, filled the bathroom, joining the squelching of your pussy.
Rafayel's little gasps spurred you on, encouraging to move your hand faster against his length. He whined, biting his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his chest hitching, his cock jumping in your hand.
"Sweet girl," he groaned. "Sl-slow down, or I'm gonna cum already." He looked up at you, his eyes dark. "And I really wanna fuck you."
Trembling slightly as your own pleasure built up, you hooked one of your legs around his waist. "So fuck me, then," you whispered. "We can take our time later."
"That's my girl," he murmured. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and lifted them to his mouth, sucking off your wetness, moaning at the taste of you. He pulled your panties off and let them dangle from the ankle already hooked behind his lower back. He slipped his arm underneath you, helping you jump up onto him. You wrapped your other leg around him as well.
Hand still wrapped around his cock, you lined him up with your entrance. He paused and pressed a soft, asking kiss to your forehead. You nodded and he gently pushed in.
You were whining as his tip slipped into you, the barest resistance from your walls. He paused.
"You okay?" he breathed.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you promised. "Keep going, sweetie." You let out a breath, looking down as he pushed further in, moving slowly. You pulled your hand away from his cock just as he reached down to rub your clit, helping you take him.
You let out a loud moan. "Baby," you whispered. "Oh, Raf, fuck." Your voice echoed in the empty bathroom.
Rafayel bottomed out and let out a soft breath. He held you, one arm supporting your ass and the other wrapped around your back. You draped your arms over his shoulders, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Can I move?" he whispered.
You nodded. "Yes, baby," you murmured. You kissed him hard, then softly again. "Want it."
Rafayel's hips started slowly, carefully. He moaned, head falling against your shoulder. "Sweet girl," he whimpered. "You're so tight today..." You whined and clung to him, gasping as his head hit the right spot. He grinned against your skin. "Is that the spot, cutie?"
You whimpered. "Y-yes," you gasped out, head falling back again.
Rafayel stumbled forward until your back met the wall, bracing you there and adjusting to thrust harder and faster into you. "Feel good?"
You answered him with a messy kiss. His next thrust hit just right and you gasped against his mouth. Rafayel's tongue swiped against yours in the next second.
You relaxed all but your legs, keeping him close to you. His rapid thrusts had you trembling harder, legs shaking around him. You buried your head in his neck, opposite the kiss mark to keep it intact, and muffled your moans with his collar.
"Mark me," he begged. "Please, cutie, mark me as yours."
Some part of you was still aware that he had a professional engagement once you were done. So you pushed his shirt down and sucked a hickey into his collarbone, where you could hide it, that matched the other you'd left earlier.
Rafayel moaned embarrassingly loudly. He was panting now, even as his hips kept up a steady pace, your walls fluttering around him.
"Are you close, sweet girl?" he purred. "Gonna cum for me?"
"Yes," you whined. "Fuck, Raf, I'm so—"
The door handle jiggled.
You and Rafayel froze, heads whipping toward the sound. Panic filled you until you remembered you'd locked the door. Even so, the two of you stayed absolutely still, eyes locked on each other, until the person on the other side of the door gave up.
Several moments passed before Rafayel started to move again, returning to the slow pace he'd begun with. You tapped his arm quickly. When he looked at you, eyes wide, you whispered, "Faster."
Rafayel giggled. "Then you gotta keep quiet, okay?" You nodded. "Good girl," he breathed. A second later, he giggled as you tightened up around his cock, growing wetter at the praise.
The two of you continued, panting and whimpering quietly, muffling each other's noises with kisses. Rafayel's thrusts grew sloppier as he grew closer. The knot in your stomach tightened.
"Close again," you murmured against his lips.
"Forgive me," he whispered in response, leaving you frowning—until he pulled out of you, effectively squashing your orgasm. You spluttered in confusion, even as your interest grew at the sight of him shoving his pants and boxers further down, his cock in his hand.
Quickly, Rafayel pulled you away from the wall and bent you over the sink. You were faced with the appetizing view of Rafayel behind you, lust in his gaze—and in his hands. He flipped your dress up over your back, exposing your ass. You grinned at him in the mirror; he wiped it off your face as he spread your legs and pushed back into your pussy.
Moaning softly, Rafayel folded himself over you, holding onto your waist as he began thrusting into you.
"Oh, fuck, cutie," he whimpered. God, you loved when he sounded wrecked like that—and you hadn't even needed to do anything to get him there. "Feels so damn good like this."
You found yourself mesmerized with the view of your bodies moving together in the mirror, your hips moving to meet his every thrust. As for Rafayel, he had buried his face in your back, jaw clenched to hide his whines.
"That's it, baby," you cooed. "Oh, holy shit... Rafayel, baby, you're gonna make me cum!"
His arms tightened around you. "Go ahead, sweet girl, please. Please, let me have it. Cum on my cock, please, please."
"Needy boy," you teased, though you were hardly in a position to judge. You shuddered, legs shaking, knees weakening as pleasure crested through you.
Rafayel's hand slipped further down, slapping away the fabric of your dress. His trembling fingers found your clit and began to rub in sensual circles. Your pussy clenched around him and you whined.
"Cum for me," he begged. "Fuck, please, please—cum for me!"
It crested like a wave through you, pleasure building to a peak but not quite going over the edge just yet. You moaned, trying in vain to quiet yourself.
Rafayel gasped in your ear. "Oh, fuck, cutie! Cutie, I'm— I'm cumming, oh shit, I'm—" He devolved into a moan, nearly sobbing as he came. Sticky warmth filled your pussy.
"Raf!" you cried out, his cum filling you, triggering your own release. You gasped, legs shaking violently. Your ears were ringing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh, shit, baby... Oh..."
Panting, Rafayel slumped against you, his hips pumping into you a few more times. Had you been anywhere else, you were certain he would have just kept going.
Your hand found his. You laced your fingers together as you breathed, trying to recover your senses. You looked over your shoulder. "You..." Words caught in your dry throat. "You okay?"
Rafayel lifted his head and locked eyes with you in the mirror. "I'm great," he breathed. He gave you a lopsided green. "How do you feel?"
"Fantastic," you replied, matching his smile. After a moment, during which you cleared your throat and caught your breath, you added, "We should...get back."
He nodded, sighing heavily. He pulled out slowly. Both of you groaned as his cum dripped out of you and onto the floor.
"Let me clean you up," he said softly. He pulled up his boxers and pants before he grabbed a paper towel. He wet it and squeezed the excess water from it. He dabbed it gently between your legs, cleaning the slick and cum and sweat off you.
Rafayel tossed the towel and pulled your panties back up your legs. He helped you fix your dress, straightening it out. In return, you readjusted his shirt, careful to cover the hickeys you'd left on him, wiping up the lipstick marks on his neck and face. You did, however, leave the stain you'd given him for the evening.
The two of you were quiet as you cleaned up and washed your hands, basking in the bliss of each other. You could already tell you were going to be pleasantly sore for the rest of the evening.
In the mirror, the two of you tidied your hair and faces. Rafayel crouched to wipe the mess from the floor. You reapplied lipstick and mascara and, by the end of it, you had to peer closely to realize anything had happened at all.
Rafayel offered you his hand. "Ready, cutie?"
You took his head. "Are you?"
He sighed. "You and Thomas," he teased, "thinking I can't handle the press."
You raised your eyebrow. "Should I quote their last article to you?" He huffed. You squeezed his hand. "Just...pay attention. Answer their questions. Be humorous but not rude, alright?"
"I," he said, affronted, a hand to his chest, "have been reliably told that I am not rude—I am sassy!"
You giggled. "Oh, hush," you said, kissing his cheek. "I trust you with this, Raf, I do. It's going to be just fine."
His face softened. "Thank you," he said, voice fond. He gave you one last kiss on the cheek as you rounded the corner, stepping back into the exhibition.
Eyes turned toward the two of you immediately and you tried your best not to look like you'd had a quickie in the bathroom. You smiled serenely at people who made eye contact with you, giving Rafayel's hand a squeeze.
Thomas was still entertaining the critics. Thankfully, the three of them were laughing as you joined them, Rafayel dropping seamlessly into the conversation with a clever comment about his art, bouncing off of what Thomas was saying, that appeared to make them forget that they should ask where he'd been.
As chivalrous as you'd ever seen him, Rafayel guided the two critics away from you and Thomas, starting them through the exhibition's planned loop to view his art.
For several moments, you and Thomas were silent as you watched Rafayel. You had the sudden feeling that you must look like proud parents.
"I don't know how you do it," Thomas said at last.
"Do what?"
"Get him to cooperate, to put it bluntly," he said. "I've worked him for years, and I've never seen him so willing to...mingle."
You hummed in agreement, then realized that Thomas was watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting. It dawned on you that he was hoping for an actual answer.
You hoped you weren't blushing.
When it became clear you weren't answering, Thomas cleared his throat and went back to watching Rafayel, now at a different painting, laughing with the critics. Then he cleared his throat again.
"That was, ah...quite a long pep talk you two had."
Oh, you were certainly blushing now.
Catching sight of Thomas' sly side smile did you no favors for your burning cheeks. You looked the opposite direction of him, biting your lip.
Thomas laughed behind his hand. "Oh, really? Forget the kiss mark, fucking in a public bathroom is the real risk to his reputation!" Yet he didn't seem all that surprised by it. "At least I hope you went to a bathroom and not a hallway..."
"It was a bathroom!" you said quickly, no longer caring that you were incriminating yourself, just mortified at the idea at being caught with your dress around your hips in the gallery's halls. Then you shrugged. "I locked the door, don't worry. We might be stupid but we're not that stupid."
He tilted his head, debating. "You know, stupid isn't the word I would go for."
"Oh, no? Dumb? Reckless? Idiotic?" you offered.
He rolled his eyes. "Horny," he corrected, voice low.
You glanced over at your Lemurian, several other instances flickering through you mind: water sloshing in a bathtub, rolling around in paint together, your surprise visit to his hotel room for a previous exhibition, the first time he'd shown you his tail, and the night in the desert. And that was just the beginning.
Looking back at Thomas, you said, "I don't think you know your artist that well. You'd...be surprised."
Thomas coughed. He clenched his jaw so hard you thought you heard a tooth crack. His eyes drifted over the art on display. "So when he said you were his inspiration..."
You were nodding before he could finish his thought. As his voice trailed off, you took in his suddenly bloodless cheeks with a laugh. "Don't look so shocked, Thomas. He's not lying about the other inspirations for his paintings—those are just...secondary."
"Oh, God."
~❊~
"So!" Rafayel was incredibly cheery as the pair of you left the gallery, headed toward his car. Your joined hands swung between you. "Is Thomas going to kill us?"
You laughed. "Well, I don't think so. Are your critics going to turn you into a public scandal?"
He beamed. "Not this time! They were enchanted by me. Besides, it wasn't really a scandal last time, Thomas is dramatic." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "They caught me in a bad mood last time. But this time, I had you." He squeezed your hand, then brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly.
You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love you," you said quietly, adjusting so you could see his face.
Rafayel's eyes glittered in the darkness. "I love you, too, beloved."
He held your door open for you before getting in himself. The radio was playing a soft, quiet love song you would have liked to dance with him to, if you had been anywhere but the car.
The roads were quiet and empty, illuminated by streetlamps. You reached over and placed your hand on Rafayel's thigh. He smiled, glancing at you.
"Does somebody want something?" he asked, only half-teasing.
"Drive faster," you purred, looking him up and down. When he raised a brow, you elaborated, "I have a laundry list of things I'd like to do to you."
Rafayel's cheeks flared pink, but his foot pressed down on the gas and your hand slowly creeped higher up his leg.
You made it home ten minutes earlier than you should have.
☞ ❊ ☜
[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]
Love and Deepspace // Rafayel
Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the L&DS/Rafayel taglist!}
Event story : The End of the Cliché Lucifer Gifted — Part 1/3
[Transcript of the event story with illustrations] I transcribed the whole event for those who missed it or who would like to reread it ♥
♦ Part 1-4 [on going] | The other event story are linked in section n°4 of the masterlist
♦ MC : gn!reader → You/Your name or they/them
♦ Date : May 2026
♦ Context of the story : Within the perfect school life created by a God of another world, for some reason, you keep running into Lucifer alone, just the two of you. Each time that happens, Lucifer recalls an old connection through you. At last, when the one-month-long world comes to an end, he gives you a gift that only he can offer, as you have passed the test...
Gehenna
Satan : That’s definitely depression !
Satan’s booming declaration shook the entire office, drawing every devil’s attention away from their towering stacks of paperwork. All eyes followed the direction of this thick finger — straight to you, slumped into the plush sofa in the corner, letting out a quiet sight.
You : (Here he goes again…)
In reality, you were just drowsy from a food coma after overindulging in desserts made from Gehenna’s local specialties.
However, Satan folded his arms with an unusually serious expression. Over the past few days, while you had been helping him with paperwork, he had been carefully observing how you would occasionally drift off, staring absentmindedly out the window.
Satan : I’ve been through it myself — I know the signs. That’s early-stage depression. Look at those unfocused eyes, just staring into nothing ! At this rate, they’ll start crying out of nowhere !
********** A few days earlier, at lunchtime
You sat motionless, fork in hand, staring blankly at the freshly grilled steak in front of you, its rich aroma still rising into the air.
You : (Which part should I cut first to make it taste the best..?)
You were, in fact, seriously contemplating that. But from the distance, Satan saw something else entirely.
Satan : Hey, Sitri. Don’t you think [Your name]’s appetite has dropped compared to before ?? Hahh ?
Sitri : …? I’m not sure, Your Majesty.
Satan : Look at them ! Just spacing out without eating anything. With all that delicious food right in front of them !
Sitri : Hmm… now that you mention it, maybe…?
Satan : That’s a classic early symptom of depression.
You : (I can hear you, Satan…)
Thanks to Satan, who had no idea how loud his voice was, you could clearly hear all of his concerns — misguided as they were.
But as always, you brushed it off as a passing incident and didn’t think much of it.
At least, not yet. You didn’t realise how big this situation would become.
**********
It was another day. While helping Satan carry piles of approval documents, you tilted your head back, feeling the stiffness in your neck. A small sigh escaped without you even realising it. But Satan, who had just turned the corner of the hallway, saw it — and immediately grabbed Paimon by the shoulder.
Satan : Did you hear that ?! That soul-crushing sigh just now ?! That’s the sound of someone’s spirit crying out under pressure !!
Paimon : Oh myyy ~ ! Then does that meannn ~ ?!
Satan : [Y/n]... It really depression after all…!!
Once again, you took his concern lightly and simply continued on your way.
But, it was a mistake. Not for just a day or two, but nearly over a week, Satan caused a commotion, insisting that you were depressed. Because of that, not only Satan but the other devils also came to believe the depression theory (?) about you, and everyone began to worry. Even when you belatedly realise how serious things had gotten and repeatedly insisted that wasn’t the case, not a single devil belied you.
Leraye : [Y/n]... if something’s bothering you, you have to tell us.
You : No, seriously…! I told you, I’m not depressed ?!
Leraye : I heard the thing people with depression say the most is ‘I’m fine’...
You : (This is driving me crazy…!!)
********** And finally, today
To put everyone’s worries to rest, you deliberately acted energetic — eating well and even properly finishing your dessert.
Which, of course, led you sinking into the plush sofa in the corner of the office, fighting — and losing — to a food coma. Seeing your limp, lethargic form, Satan finally couldn’t hold back and shouted loudly enough to shake the office.
Satan : It’s definitely depression !! Now it’s progressed to lethargy !!
The gazes of the 72 Devils reviewing documents all turned towards you at once. Crossing his thick arms, Satan declared with a serious face.
Satan : I’ve been through this, I know the signs. This is definitely depression. If we don’t act fast, it’s going to get serious !!
After repeating “That’s not it !” countless times over the past few days, you were beyond annoyed — but you couldn’t just stay silent either.
You : Stan, I’m not really-
Asmodeus : Looks like homesickness.
Just as you were about to argue back, the office door opened and Asmodeus appeared.
You : Asmodeus ??
Asmodeus : Hey, sweetheart. Nice surprise, isn’t it ?
Belial : Everyone, open the windows ! Hurry up, you slow idiots !!
Belial sprang to his feet, urgently giving orders as if poisonous gas had filled the room. It was an attempt to dilute even a little of the pheromones Asmodeus was emitting.
Asmodeus : I had something to discuss with Satan, and since I was here, I thought I’d stop by and see you too.
Satan : Don’t go doing things nobody asked you to, you bastard !!
Whether Satan growled and threw things or not, Asmodeus leisurely leaned against the doorframe, glanced at you on the sofa, and crossed his arms.
Asmodeus : It’s homesickness.
Satan : Homesickness ??
Asmodeus : It’s different from depression. They just miss home.
Satan : You think I wouldn’t know that ?! Don’t explain it to me — damn it !!
Ignoring Satan, Asmodeus continued while looking at you.
Asmodeus : Well, it’s only natural. You can’t contact the people on Earth, and you can’t even meet them…
His voice trailed off, the corner of his lips curling so slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. In truth, whether it was depression or homesickness didn’t matter to him. Using your current listless state as an excuse, he found himself wanting to once again savor that thrilling sensation from before — when he played the role of your ‘teacher’ and had you completely under his control.
Asmodeus : (Ahh, just thinking about that time again is making me heat up down there.) Perfect. I’ll perfectly cure that homesickness myself. Whether it’s homesickness or depression, all I need to do is let them experience an Earth so enjoyable that it completely erases it, right ? And if I’m choosing the setting, it’ll be [your name]’s school days. (That way, I can take on the role of teacher again and spend enjoyable time with [your name].)
Satan : …? Hey, what exactly are you planning ?
Asmodeus : I’ll recreate an entire ‘school life on Earth’ just for [your name] — one where all suffering is erased.
At that moment, Asmodeus and Satan glanced over toward where you were. You nodded. Unable to resist the food coma that came after eating, you had already begun dozing off.
Satan : Recreating an entire Earth-style school life just for them — sure, that’s impressive, but since when could you even pull something like that off ??
Asmodeus : I can’t do it — but I know someone who can. I’m going to meet Angra Mainyu.
Asmodeus’ words quickly reached the other five kings. Thanks to Satan’s dramatic overreaction over the past few days, they were all already under the impression that you were depressed — true or not. So when they heard that Asmodeus was going to meet Angra Mainyu, they asked to accompany him. However, even for the rulers of Hell, meeting ‘Angra Mainyu’ — the supreme deity of a world and an expert in the creation of spacetime — was not something they could do by simply opening a door and walking in. It required proper procedures and a ‘relay’.
Asmodeus : In that case, we’ll just go through an intermediary. You all can attend remotely.
Mammon : Fine. I will lend you my drone. For a price, of course.
And so, Asmodeus crossed the boundaries of Hell and headed toward the domain of Azathoth — the origin of all dimensions, where formless chaos churns endlessly. At the heart of the blinding cosmic abyss, a vast, shapeless presence surged.
Azathoth : What have you come to sell ? Or perhaps to buy ? For reference, the ‘Essence of Sleep Bed’ you ordered last time is still in transit.
Asmodeus : I request an audience with Angra Mainyu, overseer of light and truth. I wish to negotiate a deal concerning the creation of spacetime.
Azathoth : Oh ? A relay. Very well.
The abyss rippled grotesquely, and Azathoth’s network — connecting all things in the universe — actived. As if tuning into the frequency of chaos, space warped and twisted. And at last, the mediation was accepted. The pitch-black darkness split apart, revealing a realm of blinding brilliance and enormous golden mechanisms — the divine realm of Angra Mainyu.
Seated upon his throne, Angra Mainyu listened to Asmodeus’ audacious request delivered through the relay — and burst into hearty laughter.
Angra Mainyu : “What an amusing proposal. Very Well — one month, precisely. I shall create a perfect, simulated school life for that human — one without worry, without pain, without a single flaw. A utopia where everything revolves around that human alone.”
Angra Mainyu’s eyes gleamed — with mischief or perhaps arrogance.
Angra Mainyu : “But nothing comes for free. If that child chooses to abandon returning to Hell and instead remains in my perfect world forever… Hand over your territory — Hell itself — to me.
The atmosphere in the divine realm dropped like a weight. It was an insane gamble — one wrong move, and the devils would lose their entire domain. However, the kings — hearing Angra Mainyu’s proposal through the Tartaros-made drone Asmodeus had deployed — responded with nothing more than scoffs of disbelief.
Satan : There’s no such thing as a losing bet. I’m in !!
Satan slammed his hand down on the table — BANG ! A cracking sound followed as the table split apart.
Mammon : I will raise the stakes. My entire fortune. If we win, you double it.
Mammon placed his bert with a relaxed smile.
Leviathan : There’s no way that human would ever abandon this Hell, not with us in it.
Just as Leviathan let out a scoff as he was done speaking.
Angra Mainyu : “In the world I create, you will all be there as well.”
Angra Mainyu let out a mocking laugh at their overconfidence and turned the massive gears of creation.
**********
As you opened your eyes, you blankly stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling — one that felt nothing like Hell at all. You had clearly been dozing off on the sofa in Satan’s office, but what touched your cheek now was not the sofa, but a dazzlingly white, crisp blanket.
You : …? What happened ? (Did someone move me ?)
A gentle breeze drifted in though the open window, carrying the sound of chirping sparrows and the freshness of morning air. As you pushed yourself up, you realise you were dressed in a familiar school uniform.
You : This is… my old school uniform…?
You blinked, glancing down at your hands before looking around in confusion. A space that vaguely resembled Minhyeok’s room… no — it looked exactly like Minhyeok’s room.
You : (But… something feels off. Like… There’s no trace of his scent anywhere.)
If anything, the room felt strangely familiar — like it had always been yours alone.
You : I’m sure I was just in Gehenna’s castle, so why did I suddenly wake up here ?
Just as you considered pinching your cheek to check if this was a dream, you realised something.
You : My body feels… unbelievably light…!
Your shoulders, which had been unconsciously tense ever since arriving in Hell, had softened. Your skin, once dry from sleepless nights due to relentless angel attacks, now felt smooth. And the stress you had quietly carried — missing Earth and Minhyeok — vanished completely.
You : (My head feels so clear…! And somehow, it feels like my energy is overflowing !) What is this ? Why do I feel so good ? I feel like I could memorise an entire book in one go or sprint 100 meters in 9 seconds.
The contract between Angra Mainyu and the kings was a secret to you. So you had no way of knowing that this virtual world was one where you become an overpowered being capable of doing everything perfectly.
You : Huhu ! I get it now. This is one amazing dream !
Deciding that was the only explanation, you stepped outside, almost as if pulled along by the strange vitality coursing through you.
You : Since I’m in uniform, maybe I should go to school ?
Leaving the place identical to Minhyeok’s house, you walked along the familiar route you used to take to school as a child.
“All students, please gather in the auditorium !”
It seemed there was some kind of school event, as student council members were calling everyone in.
You : (For some reason, my heart’s starting to race…!)
Not long after, all the students gathered in the auditorium. Then the student council president stepped onto the stage, and with a relaxed stride, took position in front of the microphone.
Beelzebub : Well, well ~ I didn’t expect everyone to actually show up just because I called. How obedient. Keke.
The one who stepped onto the stage with a sly grin was none other than Beelzebub. At that single small smile, the shrieks of the female students rang out loudly enough to seem as though they would pierce the auditorium roof.
You : (R-Right. Dreams reflect the subconscious… so it’s not strange for Beelzebub to appear in my dream ! … But making Beelzebub the student council president ? What kind of subconscious decision is that …?)
Just as you let out an awkward laugh in disbelief, an enormous roar loud enough to tear through your eardrums came from the school gate outside the auditorium.
VROOOOM !!! SCREEEECH !!!
Satan : Kahaha ! I haven’t even arrived yet, and you’re already starting without me ?!
At the front of a loud group arriving on motorcycles stood Satan, laughing heartily. The sheer noise with Satan’s voice, everyone jumped to their feet and rushed to the auditorium windows to look outside.
You : (So Satan’s a student here too…? And the leader of a biker gang ? That fits him way too well.)
Just then, from inside the school grounds, a group of students wearing black uniforms marched in perfect formation toward the school gate where Satan stood.
Walking at the very front of them was…
Mammon : I have been waiting, Satan ! Today, we settle this once and for all. With this school on the line.
From the looks of it, Satan and Mammon appeared to be the leaders of two rival factions competing over the school. Soon after, the two groups collided and the school’s main gate was literally being smashed to pieces. On one side were Satan’s delinquents, wearing intimidating special attack uniforms embroidered with fierce designs, revving their motorcycle engines. On the other side were Mammon’s wealthy-family faction, dressed in pristine luxury uniforms and wielding top-tier weapons — were grabbing each other by the collars and causing chaos.
Beelzebub : Let’s ignore those idiots outside and move with the program, shall we ~
As Beelzebub lightly tapped the microphone while speaking, the students obediently returned to their seats.
Beel : The reason we’ve gathered today is none other than to announce the school festival that will take place in one month !
You : (A school festival ?!)
Your heart began pounding once more. Just thinking about it already sounded fun.
Beel : That said ~ the important details won’t come from me — the head of the disciplinary committee will further explain.
You : (Why ?)
Beel : I couldn’t be bothered writing the script, so I handed it off ~
You : (Of course you did !!)
Beel : Alright then ~ please welcome the head of the disciplinary committee, who’ll go over the festival details and rules ~
As Beelzebub clapped his hands, someone neatly dressed in a proper uniform stepped up from below the stage and stood before the microphone.
Levi : I am the head of the disciplinary committee.
You : (Leviathan, who loves rules, being the head of the disciplinary committee that suits him perfectly ! Though that means I’ll have to be extra careful not to break any school rules…)
You didn’t know when this dream would end, but even in a dream, you didn’t want to get scolded by Leviathan.
Levi : During the festival preparations…
Then, suddenly, Leviathan stopped mid-sentence and fixed a sharp glare toward the front row.
Levi : There’s a student sleeping in plain sight.
As he stared fixedly in one direction, everyone’s gaze followed. The person was…
Belphie : Leviathan, yer voice just ain’t suited for readin’ stuff like that. Makes a body mighty sleepy.
Mumbling half-asleep, Belphegor let his head droop again with a thud and immediately fell back asleep. Leviathan looked ready to storm off the stage and grab him by collar, but Beelzebub barely managed to hold him back.
Beel : Alright then, that’s all for today ! Let’s hope the festival turns out to be a fun one.
As he said that, Beelzebub once again looked precisely in your direction and gave you a wink.
After the chaotic morning assembly ended, you followed the crowd of students heading toward their classrooms.
You : (Come to think of it…! I don’t even know what grade or class I’m in this dream…!)
The moment that thought crossed your mind, a voice called your name from behind.
Asmo : [Your name], private consultation.
You turned — and sure enough, there he was, dressed as a teacher, smiling at you with dangerously captivating charm while motioning you closer.
You : Asmodeus…teacher ?
Asmo : Pfft…!
It felt awkward, but aware of the people around you — even if this was a dream — you called him “teacher”. That alone made him break into laughter, barely able to contain himself as he covered his mouth.
You : … No way…
Asmo [Y/n], that was adorable. The way you called me ‘teacher’... I’d love to record it and keep it forever.
You : What — wait, this isn’t really a dream…? You’re not just Asmodeus in my dream — but the real Asmodeus ?
Asmo : It’s practically the same as a dream, so don’t worry.
Asmodeus gave a strangely vague explanation as he wrapped an arm around your waist.
You : … Dream or not, I feel like this kind of physical contact between a teacher and a student might be a problem.
Asmo : You’re not that stiff of a person, are you ?
You : But you… you’re pretty stiff right now…
You could feel what was inside Asmodeus’ pants, fully hardened, pressing firmly against your body.
Asmo : Can I rub against your thigh ?
You : That sounds extremely inappropriate for a teacher to say…
Asmo : That’s what makes it more thrilling.
You couldn’t refute that remark, so you only opened and closed your mouth silently — because you thought the same thing as well.
Asmo : Keke, I’d love to keep you all to myself from day one — but for now, try enjoying school life a little more.
You : Oh… That actually sounded pretty teacher-like.
Asmo : Here — this is a note with your grade and class, along with your schedule.
You accepted it, not forgetting to thank him. Just as you turned to head toward the classroom :
Asmo : Make sure you fully enjoy everything in this place, [y/n].
You : I will.
Something about his words felt oddly strange, making you tilt your head in confusion.
Just then — Ding-dong-dang-dong-
You : (Ah…! The warning bell before class…!)
You hurried down the hallway so you wouldn’t be late. Without realising it, the lightness granted by your overpowered buff made your steps quicker and quicker — until your brisk walk had naturally turned into a light run.
You : Ah, I’m going to be late ! Gotta hurry…
It happened as you quickly turned a corner. Thud-! Your body collided with something, and a heavy impact struck your forehead. With a short cry, you lost your balance and began to fall backward — but at that very moment, a large, cool hand firmly wrapped around your waist and pulled you sharply forward.
You : Hagh, I’m sorry…! I should’ve watched where I was going… b-but…? Huh ? You’re…
You raised your voice, then quickly stopped yourself mid-sentence. Standing there, looking down at you with a few buttons of his uniform shirt undone and his tie loosened, was none other than Lucifer.
You : (Did all seven kings really end up in my dream ?! No, more importantly…! We’re way too close…!)
Flustered, you hurriedly stepped back, widening the distance between you. Lucifer was like an unfathomable abyss — impossible to read. A fallen angel who had lived thousands of years, one who regarded humans as beings worth less than ants. Though he was sometimes lenient toward you, he usually felt cold and intimidating. Whether his chilling presence carried into dreams or not, the reactions of the other students in the hallway were anything but ordinary.
You : (The moment Lucifer appeared, all the passing students are naturally moving aside…?)
No one tried to speak to him. No one even attempted to meet his gaze.
You : (Lucifer, what kind of existence is he at this school ? No, more importantly, I should apologise first !) Lu-Lucifer… I’m sorry…!
Lucifer : Forget it.
As expected, instead of saying “it’s fine”, Lucifer merely gave a curt reply that sounded more like he wasn’t interested, then turned and walked away. On his back, you could see that he was carrying a guitar case. Watching him as he walked farther away, you suddenly remembered that quite some time had passed since the warning bell rang.
You : (I should get to class first…!!)
Lucifer : …….
After your brief encounter with Lucifer, you hurried back to the classroom, where class was already in progress. But even though you arrived late, no one scolded you.
Teacher : If [Y/n] was late to class, there must have been a reason.
Everyone seemed to share the same thought — even the teacher said it out loud.
You : (What is this ? This deep trust they have in me…?!)
Teacher : Alright, who wants to solve this next equation ? It’s a bit tricky.
To your own surprise, you were the one who solved the problem. And even as harder questions followed, you solved them one after another without hesitation.
You : (Huh ? Was I always this smart ?)
But academics weren’t the only thing you excelled at. It was the final class of the day, physical education. In the dodgeball match, you lightly dodged a powerful throw from the opposing team, then used the rebounding ball to knock out one opponent. With your performance bringing the match to a clean finish, cheers and applause erupted from all around.
You : (Wow… I looked pretty cool just now ! Ah ! I get it ! In this dream, I’m a ‘munchkin’ who’s good at everything ! There’s no worries, no fatigue, no bullies, no stress here !)
The moment that thought crossed your mind, your eyes caught sight of another class having PE on the opposite side of the field.
You : (That class is… Ah ! It’s Lucifer’s class…!)
They were playing basketball, but even from afar, it was obvious that no one wanted to go anywhere near Lucifer. Then, when the ball accidentally ended up in Lucifer’s hands, he didn’t even move — he simply threw the shit from where he stood, scoring a perfectly clean three-pointer. The same thing happened every time the ball went to Lucifer, making the game look anything but normal.
You : (That’s… completely overwhelming…?)
At that moment, students nearby also stared in the same direction and began whispering among themselves.
Student : If the basketball team saw that, they'd be devastated again.
Student : Seriously. Not just basketball — soccer, baseball, even fighting — he’s apparently good at everything, but he turned down every club offer.
You wiped your sweat while carefully listening in on their conversation.
You : (So Lucifer is the ‘admired by everyone but uninterested in everything himself’ kind of lone-wolf character…!)
Just then, Lucifer’s class basketball game ended. At that moment, Lucifer turned his head — and it seemed like he was looking straight toward you.
Shhk-! You instinctively averted your gaze, worried your eyes might meet his.
You : (Everytime I see Lucifer, my heart starts acting weird.)
Whether it was out of excitement or fear, you couldn’t tell.
********** After school, as the crimson sunset stretched long across the sky
You : Hehe, I hope this dream goes on forever.
After your standout performance in the final class — PE — you headed toward the rarely used storage area to cool off your sweat.
You : (Come to think of it, in romance manga, heart-fluttering things always happen in places like gym storage rooms…! This dream feels like a perfect world made just for me, so maybe the things I’m hoping for really could happen…)
Just as that thought crossed your mind, a thick arm shot out from the darkness, grabbing your waist and pulling you straight into the storage room. With a bang, the iron door shut, sending pale dust into the air.
Satan : Shh.
The one who had forcibly pushed you toward the worn vaulting mats inside the storage room was none other than Satan.
You : (...Th-that scared me…! It’s just Satan. I thought it was a stranger, so that’s a relief… Wait. Is this actually a situation to feel relieved about ?)
Between the open collar of his delinquent school uniform, his firm chest muscles were visible, and the lingering heat from his recent fight — along with his strong, masculine scent — washed over you.
You : (...Whether it’s a relief or not, I guess this is still something to be grateful for !)
You swallowed nervously, sneaking glances at his muscles. The scene you had secretly hoped for was unfolding right in front of you.
Satan : Keke, [Y/n]. You really don’t change, even here.
You : …? What do you mean, even here ? Ah ! Wait — do you still remember things from outside this dream too ? Like Asmodeus ?
Satan : A dream ? Yeah, calling it that works. Something like that.
His explanation was just as vague as Asmodeus’ — but that wasn’t what mattered right now.
You : But why did you suddenly drag me somewhere like…
Before you could finish asking, your lips were swallowed by Satan’s rough lips. He easily grabbed both your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head. Satan’s tongue forced its way past your closed lips, roaming widely inside your mouth. Without giving you even a moment to breathe, the dense and forceful kiss that seemed intent on swallowing even the root of your tongue drained all the strength from your legs. The explicit, wet sound of saliva tangling echoed strangely through the quiet gym storage room. Satan gripped your chin and twisted it, pushing in deeper, while the other hand hastily tugged up the hem of your school blouse. His rough, masculine hand seized your bare breast firmly.
You : (What do I do…? It really feels like the thing I was ‘hoping for’ is about to happen…!)
Your prediction was exactly right.
Both your breathing gradually grew more ragged, until eventually the empty gym storage room filled with the sounds of bodies colliding and suppressed moans.
Much later — after reaching climax again and again — you both collapsed onto the mat, gasping for breath.
You : Haa…Haa.. Satan… I feel like I just fulfilled a dream I didn’t even know I had…
Lying beside you, Satan laughed as he pulled your waist closer, pressing your lower abdomen against his.
You : Btw… If you still have memories from outside this dream, does that mean you guys came into my dream ?
Satan : Something like that.
You : Then… Why are you fighting Mammon all the time ???
You finally asked the question that had been bothering you the whole time.
Satan : My memories are fine, and my will hasn’t changed. But it feels like the ‘forcing power’ of this world keeps pushing my role here onto me.
You : Your role ?
Satan : Yeah. In this world, I’m not the King of Gehenna — I’m the leader of a biker gang at this school ! The second I see that bastard Mammon’s face, my temper spikes and my fists fly before I can stop myself !
You : …You already act like a biker gang leader normally, and it’s not just Mammon — you throw punches at the other kings too. Honestly, it doesn’t seem that different…
Satan : ?? Really ??
He tilted his head, eyes wide in genuine confusion. When you laughed at the sight, his expression softened.
Satan : Anyway, just enjoy this world while you can. Since you’ve got the chance. Maybe that depression of yours will clear up too.
You : I told you, it’s not depression…
Satan : Then homesickness.
You : I don’t think it’s that either… or maybe it is ?
At this point, even you weren’t sure anymore. Still, having a dream like this definitely felt like the perfect way to refresh yourself.
You : Alright. I’ll enjoy it as much as I can — my perfect school life.
Satan : Good answer.
With that, he captured your lips again. In the heated air, you felt a pure, unfiltered sense of happiness.
********** The next day
You had fully settled into the ‘perfect daily life’ this fake world offered.
Student : [Y/n] sunbae ! You were amazing in yesterday’s dodgeball match !
Student : Um, these are cookies I made…!
Teachers showered you with endless favor, and students of every grade admired you. Everywhere you went, praise followed.
You : (It surprised me a little that the devils still have their memories… but this perfect daily life is just too exciting ! Seriously, this might be the best dream ever.)
Greeting lunchtime in high spirits, you opened your lunchbox. Somehow this lunchbox had already been inside your bad you when you woke up in the morning.
You : Thanks for the meal !
Just as you cheerfully lifted your chopsticks, your hand froze midair. Right in the center of the lunchbox sat a glossy, perfectly cooked serving of vienna sausage stir-fry.
You : (Ah, this is…)
That was the side dish Minhyeok used to make most often. In other words, this lunchbox resembled the one Minhyeok used to pack. You slowly set your chopsticks down and stared at the sausages. A dull ache tightened somewhere deep in your chest.
You : (This perfect, happy life… it would have been really nice if Minhyeok were here too.)
With a lonely smile, you placed a sausage into your mouth.
Thankfully, the pleasant events that kept coming one after another soon swept that loneliness away. After classes ended, you were heading home — no club activities to attend — when a sharp, disciplined voice called out from behind. You turned to see Leviathan, the head of the disciplinary committee, standing in his immaculate uniform with an armband.
You : Leviant ? What’s wrong ? Don’t tell me you’re doing uniform checks even after school…?
Leviathan : Uniform inspections are conducted at any time. However, there’s no need to worry. Your uniform is perfect.
Leviathan’s rare praise lifted your mood once again.
You : Then what is it ? Is there something you need help with…?
Levi : That band club member Lucifer was cited for a uniform violation and was supposed to report to receive demerit points. Instead, he skipped afternoon assembly and vanished again.
You : Ah…! So Lucifer’s in the band club. That explains the guitar case he had that day.)
Levi : So I want you to go find him.
You : Me ? Aren’t you the disciplinary president…?
Levi : I have to go deal with Mammon’s improper attire. Lucifer’s behavior is unacceptable in many ways from the standpoint of a disciplinary head, so make sure you find him.
You : (Leviathan probably still has his memories too, yet he’s so immersed in his role as disciplinary president… This ‘forcing power’ of the dream really is scary…) Alright, I’ll do it. But where am I supposed to look for Lucifer ?
Levi : How should I know ?
You : ???
Levi : Figuring that out is also part of your task.
Leaving those words behind, Leviathan immediately turned and walked away. Being told to find Lucifer — who had vanished without any clue — left you feeling completely lost. Recalling Leviathan’s words, you decided to search around the school first.
You : (Since he’s in the band club, maybe he’s in the band room ?)
But he wasn’t there. It seemed he had skipped club activities as well. You asked around and made your way to his classroom, but he wasn’t there either. Behind the field, the restrooms, the storage rooms, empty classrooms, you went almost everywhere you could, but still couldn’t find Lucifer.
You : (Then the only place left is...)
You headed toward the school rooftop, a place where students were normally forbidden to enter. The rooftop door, which you expected to be locked, was open.
Reverse intox with Charon makes me go feral and now I can’t stop thinking about it
I'm pretty sure this ask came in the very same day I posted the reverse intox kink thing and I've been obsessing over the idea ever since. Had to make time to get around to it. Charon's such a perfect candidate for that sort of thing.
Anyway, I literally had multiple dreams about this. You're on my list, Anon (complimentary). Cut added for length.
Charon doesn't really get drunk. At least, not often.
For one, he's a massive man, and it takes quite a bit of booze to even get him feeling anything, let alone to actually intoxicate him. The occasional beer or sip of hard alcohol does less than nothing for him. He's also very conservative when it comes to spending caps on himself, especially for things that are entirely frivolous to him, like drinking. Though he's a heavy smoker, he doesn't even buy cigarettes, only scavenges for them. He's also endlessly stubborn, so he'd have to be down pretty bad to even contemplate spending money on smokes.
All of this cultivates a sort of...frustrated intrigue within you. He's always so tense, so stiff and unyielding when it comes to having fun or relaxing in almost any way. Though he occasionally entertains your pleas for him to engage with you in some kind of frolic (a game, a little swim, whatever), the only sort of leisure you can consistently get him to engage in is sex. Even then, he often seems distracted, stressed that any moment you'll be stopped or interrupted by something; he has trouble being "in the moment" enough to finish at times.
It's as if he's never able to turn off the aggressively protective, on-edge part of his brain.
Due to the success of a recent prospecting venture, the two of you had decided to take a week or so off, hole up in one of the nicer towns you knew of and put your feet up. Well, you'd decided to do so and Charon had come along, grim and unquestioning as always. There had always been a certain submissiveness to the big ghoul, but the sort of submissiveness you'd see in a dangerous but well-trained guard dog—less a resignation of will and more of a conscious application of self-control. While you could tell that the relative safety of the location put him somewhat at ease, you could also see that he was bored and restless only a couple of days in.
You shook your head as you took in the way he fixated on the only door of the bar you'd settled yourself into. You felt guilty that he never really seemed to be enjoying himself, but you refused to let his antsiness edge its way into your relaxation time. You'd be back on the road in a few days, off on another adventure, but you were never shy to take a little time enjoying the fruits of your labor.
You bought him a beer, and he finished it quickly, as always. He didn't ask for another, but, then again, he never did. For yourself, you ordered some made-up cocktail the place was advertising, sipping on it once or twice as you took in all the hubbub in the room.
"Hmm. I don't like how this tastes." you mused, pushing the glass his way. "Finish it for me, would you?"
There was a brief flash of suspicion in his eyes as he looked at the thing.
"It'll just go to waste if you don't." you slightly fibbed, knowing damn well that anyone in the place would be happy to polish off a free beverage. "Go on. Relax a little."
After a pause, he drank it down rather quickly and discarded the glass a few inches down the bar top, his reaction difficult to read. Pleased with what you'd seen, you ordered something else and did the same thing, drawing a sip or two off of it and deciding it wasn't to your liking. He studied you closely as you pushed the second drink his way.
"What?" you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes. "There's nothing wrong with trying something and not liking it."
He didn't say anything, accepting it obediently despite the doubt in his gaze.
Things followed that same pattern for an hour or so, you ordering about a dozen different drinks that mostly ended up in his hand, only one or two deemed good enough to stay with you. Even then, you slid him the last few sips so that he could "try it out".
"I think you're trying to get me drunk." he said plainly after about the sixth beverage, his words beginning to slur a little. It was very much like him to cut to the point this way, but the liquor seemed to be making him even bolder.
"I've never seen you drunk. I don't even know if it's possible." you replied evasively.
By the time you were ready to close out your tab, digging deep into your bag to produce a big tin of caps, the man beside you was almost unrecognizable. He swayed almost imperceptibly along with an unfamiliar song on the radio, one he seemed to recognize nonetheless, turning his head to and fro to openly study the crowd.
While you found it endearing, there was a palpable tension from many of the other bar patrons at the hulking ghoul's behavior. Even the bartender seemed to be watching the two of you closely as Charon leaned rather heavily on the bar. Soon, you decided that it was probably time to move things back to your own room.
It was strange to see the typically alert man fumbling around, his steps unsteady and his gait swaying as the two of you crossed the crumbling old road to the hotel a stone's throw away. He leaned clumsily against the wall, eyes glassy as they watched you dig the key out of your pocket. You had a very mild buzz going yourself, but not nearly enough of a buzz to justify how you fumbled with the lock—that could be chalked up to your distraction at how close he crowded himself.
He tossed himself down onto the rickety couch against the wall, zero consideration for how the thing thudded against the stud and was likely easily heard in the next room over. You tried your best to pretend you didn't notice the way he stared at you as you stripped out of your boots and went digging around in your bigger bag.
"Do one more with me." you insisted, producing a mostly-full bottle of whiskey from deep within and brandishing it in his direction. "The drinks at that bar are gross."
You expected him to express doubt, but he didn't say anything as you made your way over to sit beside him, very intentionally letting your side press fully against his. He very noticeably turned his gaze to where your breast brushed his arm as you took a small sip of the amber liquid, pulling a face before holding the bottle out to him. It was quite the feat to keep your face neutral as he took several large gulps, draining about a third of the thing in one go.
That stony self-control was well and truly slipping.
"Ready to party, are we?" you teased, running your palm across his heavily-scarred cheek before pulling yourself back to your feet.
You made to head for the back to change, but you were stopped by a pair of firm hands suddenly wrapping around your waist from behind. He was so tall that he didn't have to stand to be able to reach you easily.
"C'mere." he grunted, openly pawing at your hips and crotch.
"Hold on a second!" you giggled, just barely managing to pull yourself from the manacle of his grip before it got too tight. Your ghoulish lover watched you move back into the bathroom once more, silent as his glassy gaze stayed locked on your ass.
Quickly, you ditched your top, taking in what little bit of your reflection you could see in the broken mirror. You played with your hair for a few seconds, thinking about seeking out a bath house before hitting the road again. However, by the time you reached down to undo your pants, you were startled by the sudden appearance of Charon's massive frame in the doorway to your right.
"You scared me!" you gasped, slapping playfully at him as you leaned lightly on the sink, one hand over your flying heart.
He gave no verbal response, his face unreadable once more; instead, he crowded you closer to the wall, filling the tiny bathroom easily as his hands found your hips again. Suddenly, he yanked them backwards towards him, stumbling you and sending your upper body slamming down onto the porcelain edge. It dug painfully into your ribs as he pressed himself against you, rubbing his already hard cock against you through his jeans.
"Oww." you huffed as you tried to stand properly.
Your body slumped for a long moment, as the wind was knocked halfway out of you. Legs struggling to coordinate with your brain, you leaned most of your weight onto the sink. The old fixture groaned dangerously in response. However, you didn't stay in that position long, those rough hands winding around your body and easily hefting you up onto his shoulder.
"Mmm, careful." you said as he juggled your weight awkwardly, pressing your sore ribs into his solid arm. Though you flinched from the pain, your heart thundered with excitement as he turned and carried you back to the bed.
He dropped you rather unceremoniously onto the mattress, grabbing you by the ankle before you could attempt to wriggle too far away. Your unbuttoned bottoms were removed with almost unsettling speed, yanked clean off in a single, rough motion. He was on top of you almost as quickly, nearly smothering you under his heavy frame and even heavier touches.
His hands petted and groped their way across your chest, the calloused skin making your nipples pebble. He captured your lips in a heated, clumsy kiss, fingers tweaking and pinching every inch of your chest before sinking down toward your hips. You let out an embarrassing mewl as he fumbled to yank the wet gusset of your underwear to the side, seams popping and breaking as he did so.
Charon's name rasped from your throat as he ran his fingers through your slickness, lubing them just enough to allow one, then two to sink quickly into you. He wasn't gentle, focusing on stretching you with one hand and wrestling his pants open with the other. You whined and cried out at the feeling, hips writhing against the stimulation. However, after a moment, he seemed to grow distracted, but in a much different way than usual, moving down to suddenly replace his fingers with his mouth.
"Oh god!" you gasped at the sudden, pointed feeling of his tongue tracing over your puffy clit.
He ate you sloppily, aggressively, face fully buried between your legs as his arms wrapped themselves around your thighs to keep them splayed. Typically, he was very orally focused anyway, spending a great deal of time laid out on his stomach with his mouth sealed to you. He seemed to enjoy the giving aspect of it, but it also never failed to make him as hard as you ever saw him.
When you finally tightened your thighs around what remained of his ears, letting out a choked gasp as your orgasm took you, he suddenly pulled away. You expected him to go back to trying to work you open with his fingers like he usually did, but instead he dragged himself back up until he was eye-to-eye with you once more. His insistent grip moved to your knees, and he pressed them up to angle your hips up against his. You'd have protested that you weren't quite ready, but you were too lost in his liquor-flavored kisses to even think of it.
Both of you let out truncated huffs as the fat tip of him rather easily slotted into you, but every inch after that was serious work. The fact that you were already soaked beyond belief helped a great deal, but couldn't work miracles. He was so thick, spread you so far open as he pushed his way inside that you dug your nails hard into his back, vividly feeling the way they tore at his scarred flesh. A hiss streamed out from his tightly clenched teeth, though whether it was from pain or pleasure, you couldn't tell.
Charon wriggled around on top of you for a minute, seeming to struggle to find his rhythm as his head lolled back and forth across your chest. When his body finally cooperated, allowing his hips to rock back and forth at a steady pace, he sealed his lips around your nipple and sucked hard. The sudden stinging pressure made you clench around his hardness, whining as you cupped the back of his head.
"Fuck." he groaned, loud and full-throated, at the feeling, face moving to press into your throat as he began slamming his full weight against you with a mindless fervor. Every thrust pressed the air out of your lungs, making you grunt and gasp and writhe at the overstimulation. His grip on the fleshy parts of your legs was harsh, bruising, and he yanked you to and fro in order to optimally position you.
He sunk his tongue into your mouth once more as he started to falter, hands knotted into your hair to keep your head fixed in place. Even though you were growing light-headed from being denied proper breath, you were thrilled at the sudden show of intimacy from him. He almost never kissed you during sex, and certainly not so deeply. But you kissing him back, bringing your own hands up to play with the remaining strands of red hair that clung to his head, proved to be too much for him, as he was almost immediately cursing into your mouth and seizing up.
Though he typically pulled away somewhat quickly after intense moments like this, it was clear that he was losing steam, both from his intoxication and from being spent. He didn't even fully pull out, instead reaching down to wrap your legs as far around his thick torso as they'd go. Seemingly satisfied with how you clung to him, he rolled the both of you onto your sides, worming across the mattress until your head met a pillow.
You waited for him to say something, to pull away, but he did neither. Trapped in your place against his chest, cradled tightly, you couldn't see his face, but you very much doubted that he was asleep. Instead, he seemed to just be allowing himself a moment he typically wouldn't.
You were already sore, your ribs and limbs likely bruised from your encounter, but you were in a state of bliss as you curled up against him. For the first time ever, you drifted off with Charon holding you like you'd wanted for so long. The consequences of your actions could wait until the morning...or much longer.
can you write a lyrason fic where grayson is jealous of lyras ex? preferably before they start dating. ❤️
Grayson Is Jealous.
Today was another normal day in the Hawthorne household.
Everyone had gathered around in order to discuss the next Annual Game night— which would be the third of the week, but you can’t do much once Xander insists.
“LETS PLAY DRINK OR DARE AGAIN!!” Demanded Xander.
Lyra considered the demand, she was in charge of choosing which games would be included in this game night. Apparently, it was a ‘Benefit of becoming a soon-to-be-sister-in-law’.
“Xander. The last time we played Drink or Dare, you made Avery scream Hamlet at the top of her lungs at 12am, made Libby an aspiring arsonist and almost made Max a boy.” Lyra deadpanned.
Nash chuckled while Jameson completely lost it. Grayson rolled his eyes as a ghost of a smile appeared on his face.
“I did no such thing, they had the choice to drink after all.” Xander replied sending a pointed glance towards the three in question.
Avery, who was used to the bull shit of the Hawthorne brothers, completely ignored Xander.
“Don’t do it, Lyra. You know the consequences of saying yes to a Drink or Dare game.” Avery warned her.
Lyra held back the urge to laugh. She was about to answer when her phone rang.
The room went silent as she checked who in their right mind would call her at 9 in the morning. Everyone knew she wasn’t a morning person.
Lyra was surprised to see a number on the screen. Grayson leaned over and raised a brow in question, seeing just the number.
She picked up, “Hello?”
A muffled voice came from the other side of the line, “Hello? Is this Lyra?” He sounded like a male.
Lyra paused for a second, she knew that voice. But she couldn’t quite put her finger on whose it was.
“Uh— yes. Who is this?” She asked, mildly embarrassed at not being able to recognise the person.
“… Lyra— you seriously don’t recognise me?” The other person asked sounding genuinely hurt.
Lyra paused again, wracking her brain cells cause she was damn sure she knew this person. And then it clicked.
“HOLY SHIT— HARRY????” Lyra screamed, quite literally springing up, off of her seat on the sofa.
Her embarrassing past began to catch up to her the moment she said Harry’s name out loud.
Harry. Harry Smith. Her childhood friend and also her… first boyfriend.
Lyra suddenly felt the need to crawl out of her skin, dig up a ditch in the floor and die.
Harry and Lyra were friends in the past. They were raised in the same neighbourhood and talked a fair amount of times.
She liked to dance and was fairly good looking, he also liked to dance and thought she looked pretty. So he asked her out. And she said yes. That’s it. No real reason. Just cuz.
Lyra mentally screamed into the abyss. I mean— they were middle schoolers. Can you blame them? Lyra had thought that maybe dating would get her mind off… things for a while.
She had been wrong. So they broke it off literally two days later. No hugs, no kisses, just one failed date.
Lyra realised that everybody was staring at her now. She nervously signalled for them to give her a minute and walked out to the balcony.
She heard Harry laughing on the other side of the line.
“Yes. It’s me. Thank god— I thought you might have Alzheimer's or something.” He joked. Lyra let out a forced laugh.
She didn’t hate Harry. They had continued being friends after their little ‘dating phase’ but eventually grew apart when Lyra moved away from Miles End.
This is bloody awkward. She thought to herself. She hated making conversation. It made her feel like she wasn’t herself again.
Lyra took a deep breath, “Anyways, what’s up? It’s been a while.” Said Lyra, finally.
Harry huffed, “I know right. College was crazy. I thought about contacting you a few times but I didn’t really know how to reach out to you.”
Lyra gave a non committed ‘hmm’.
There shared a few moments of awkward silence and Lyra contemplated jumping off the balcony. She scratched the thought though once she realised that the balcony itself wasn’t very high off the main ground.
I’d have to jump like— twice to die from here.
“Well, my stupid ass finally realised I could just ask your parents for you phone number. They were ecstatic.” He laughed.
Lyra gave a small smile at the mention of her parents, “I swear, they think I have no friends.” She said, rolling her eyes.
“Well, can you blame them? You were a loner.” He said, matter of factly. She hated that he was right.
“Gee, did you call me to make fun of me?” Lyra asked, jokingly.
And so they continued, catching up with one another for what felt like forever. Lyra didn’t exactly enjoy the entire thing. The Lyra Kane Harry had known wasn’t actually her.
It was the facade she had on for everyone as to seem alright. Like a normal little girl. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Not after everything. Not after Grayson.
Lyra turned around to see Max and Avery waiting for her on the other side of the balcony door with a questioning look. She gave them both a smile.
“Anyways, we should really meet up again— it’s been like— forever since we last met each other .” Said Harry, as enthusiastic as ever.
Oh hell no. Was Lyra’s immediate thought. She wasn’t ready to meet everyone from her past just yet. She needed time. To heal. To be herself again with no room for doubt.
“Haha, yeah. I’ll consider when I can come over to Miles End.” She replied.
Lyra said her goodbyes and hung up, facing her two, extremely nosy friends. She could hear the others chatting away in the ‘conference room’.
“Anddddd who is this Harry?” Asked Max, with an intrigued expression. Oh the gossip queen she was.
“Don’t ask.” Said Lyra, visibly exasperated. This only interested the two girls more.
“An old neighbour?” Suggested Avery. Lyra shook her head.
“An old friend?” Tried Max. Lyra shook her head again.
“An.. acquaintance?” Said Avery. Lyra gave her a look.
“Oh! An old dance buddy?” Asked Max, not taking the hint, something she had picked up from her boyfriend.
Lyra considered the term ‘an old dance buddy.’ Sure. They had danced together before.
“Yeah— something like that.” Lyra replied.
Avery was giving Lyra an assessing look while Max’s eyes lit up, “Oh no honey, there is more to the faxing story. Something good.” Max said ever so dramatically.
Lyra made the mistake of shooting her a nervous look. Trying to get her to drop it. And she saw the moment it clicked for the two best friends.
Avery looked absolutely floored, “No way.” She said.
But it wasn’t Avery that Lyra was worried about. She turned to Max, “Max. Listen to me.”
Max opened her mouth. Avery turned to her best friend, “Calm down Max.”
“I am calm. Totally. Just— let me just make sure my assumption is correct,” Max turned to Lyra, “Is he your.. ex?” She asked.
Avery looked over to Lyra, anticipation visible in both of their eyes.
Lyra sighed in defeat, “First boyfriend as well as my only ex. It’s not what you think—”
“EXCUSE ME— FIRST BOYFRIEND???” Avery and Max screamed at the exact same time. Lyra smacked a hand to her forehead. Fuck. This was going to be complicated.
The conference room went silent and Lyra felt her embarrassment as a physical thing. God forbid a girl try to prevent a simplistic thing from turning into a dramatic disaster.
Lyra gave them both a look. Avery sent her an apologetic smile while Max just looked gobsmacked. Lyra didn’t know whether it was normal to want to giggle in this kind of a situation.
The three girls walked back into the ‘conference room’. Lyra prayed all the while that maybe, just maybe, they all shut up for another reason.
Maybe Nash got his younger brothers to finally listen to him. Or Xander managed to duct tape everyones mouth shut.
But the moment the door opened and she saw everyone stare on at her, she knew her prayers were pointless. She sighed.
“It isn’t what you think.” Lyra said, trying to calm everyone’s curiosity. She was miserably failing.
Lyra glanced over at Grayson to see how he felt about the entire situation. In all honesty, if Grayson were to hide any of his previous relationships from her, she would be upset.
But Lyra hadn’t tried to hide it. She had just… forgotten?
Thankfully, Grayson looked fine, he was just staring at her, expecting an explanation.
“We were childhood friends and middle schoolers. We gave it a shot just for the funzies, it took us two days to realise that dating was not our thing. That’s all.” She explained, taking her seat on the sofa next to Grayson again.
“That’s alllll?~~~” Asked Thea, who finally decided to stop scrolling Instagram and look up from her phone. Lyra sent her a livid glare.
Soon after, everyone fell back into flow again. Lyra looked over at her boyfriend, “Gray?” She asked, knowing fully well that Grayson would understand the question.
Grayson looked at her and smiled, “It’s fine, Lyra. If he’s a childhood friend, you can talk to him. I won’t take away your freedom.” Lyra gave him a small smile and nuzzled closer to him.
It only took her a few moments to realise that, no. Grayson was not alright with what had went down.
He had stopped talking completely, he wore no expression— which was his go to poker face when he wanted to hide his feelings, his eye brows were slightly furrowed and he was zoning out.
No. He was not okay.
The conversation ended swiftly as everyone agreed upon the games of Drink or Dare and Strip Bowling. Classics.
When Lyra and Grayson finally reached their shared bedroom in the huge ass Hawthorne mansion, Lyra spoke up.
“Gray.” A demand. Look at me.
Grayson did just that. “I’m fine Lyra. You can do whatever you want.” He replied, nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly.
“Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. Do you seriously think that hiding things from me will do you any good?” She questioned with a singular raised brow. He didn’t answer.
“Especially when it’s about me?” She pried. Grayson sighed.
Lyra closed the distance between them and took both of Grayson’s hands in her own, “Talk to me when you need to, Gray.” She said.
Grayson held her gaze, “… I’m not…” he took a second, “especially fond of this new figure.” He managed. Lyra blinked once, then she blinked again.
And then she burst out laughing. Grayson raised a brow at her but his smile gave him away.
“And what are you laughing at Ms. Kane?” He asked, amusement evident in his voice.
“eSpECiALlY fONd Of tHiS nEW fIGurE??” She managed in between gigggles. Grayson’s smile widened.
“It’s the truth.” He huffed. “Just.., simplified.”
Lyra finally composed herself, “and if I ask for the non-simplified version?”
Grayson looked at her for a moment.
“I don’t want him around you. I don’t like you talking to him. I might want to snap his neck.” He deadpanned. Lyra fell into a fit of giggles again and this time Grayson joined her.
Lyra would never get used to his honey-coated laughs.
“That’s a bit much, don’t you think, asshole?” She asked, a huge smile still plastered across her face.
Grayson turned towards the bathroom door, prepared to take a shower, “Not at all.”
Lyra laughed again as Grayson picked up his towel. Just then, Lyra’s phone rang once more.
Lyra grabbed it and read the display name before showing it to Grayson.
Harry.
Grayson made a face and it took everything in Lyra not to break down laughing again. She picked up, maintaining eye contact with her boyfriend.
“Hello?” She said.
“Lyra! Hi.” Harry replied, seemingly walking somewhere.
Lyra turned to walk out the door not wanting to disturb Grayson, “You called agai—”
She was cut off by Grayson suddenly grabbing her wrist. She whipped her head around but Grayson simply led her over to the bed. He plopped himself down, pulled Lyra towards him and kept her in his embrace.
Lyra went mute. She suddenly felt the need to hang up her phone—or break it, whichever one was faster, and kiss the boy who was currently resting his face against her stomach.
Grayson looked up at her and urged her to go on. Lyra put the phone on speaker, “H-hello—” she asked, her voice sounding squeaky and flustered.
She felt Grayson smirk against her and she wanted to smack him on the head for it.
“Lyra? You ok? Where’d you go all of a sudden?” Harry asked, Lyra felt Grayson frown upon listening to Harry’s voice and she held back a giggle.
“Sorry. There was— something. I— YOU NEEDED SOMETHING??” She asked or screamed. Or something in between, she didn’t know. Grayson did that to her.
Harry paused for a moment, “Uh— yeah, Right! So I met your mom on accident right after we hung up.”
“Mhm.” Lyra said, trying to focus on Harry’s words instead of the man who had her in between his legs and held onto her for dear life.
“Andd we were discussing things. She was surprised to know that we already talked since apparently, a certain somebody doesn’t pick up their moms phone.” Lyra winced. That was true. She needed some space for a while.
“Aha— guilty as charged your honour.” She replied. Harry chuckled.
“Honestly, Lyra, she’s so worried about you— you really should come by.” Harry said. Lyra replied with a ‘hmm’. Lyra could swear she heard Grayson murmur “Desperate bastard.”
“Anyways, she told me to tell you to pick up her phone calls and come over since your vacations have started.” Harry said.
“Uhhh, yeah sure, I’ll have to check with my people first.” Lyra said trying to ignore the fact that her, suddenly clingy Hawthorne, nuzzled closer at the ‘my people’ part.
“Mmk, you do that. What are you doing at university for vacations anyways? Don’t tell me you’re studying.” Harry said, adding a sigh. Lyra looked down at Grayson to se him making a face the screamed “does this man ever shut up?” She coughed to cover her laugh.
Now how was Lyra supposed to tell Harry that she practically jumped at the chance to spend a few months with Grayson right after her college semester was over?
“Ah— well, I’ve been hanging out with my friends and—” Lyra didn’t get a chance to complete her sentence.
“Boyfriend.” Grayson finished, seemingly satisfied with hugging her for now. She tried not to acknowledge the fact that she immediately missed his embrace. She failed.
Silence. “What?” Said Harry, finally.
Lyra was about to sit down next to Grayson so that he could talk but Grayson just pulled her down onto his lap and Lyra ascended for a second.
Lyra looked to him, knowing fully well how red she must have been by now. Grayson simply signalled for her to continue.
“I— nothing, I’ve just been hanging out with my people.” She said, the butterflies reaching her head. Lyra had officially lost the ability to form coherent sentences without stuttering.
Obviously, she smacked Grayson’s arm as a result. Grayson chuckled, not loosening his hold on her.
“Uh huh.” Said Harry, sounding sceptical. Grayson murmured something along the lines of “what’s he so suspicious for?” and Lyra couldn’t help but giggle.
“Oh! Your mom says that she’s happy you’re rekindling your old relationships.” Said Harry, ignoring Lyra’s odd behaviour.
“Friendships.” Grayson corrected. Lyra laughed.
“.. Lyra are you okay?” Harry sounded genuinely concerned.
“Y-yes I’m fine— sorry what?” She said, suppressing her laughter as Grayson pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“… Um— is this a bad time?” He asked.
“Yes,” Grayson replied, not bothering to try and keep his voice inaudible to the phone this time.
“… Who is this— Where’d you go, Lyra?” Lyra felt almost bad for Harry.
“I’m Lyra’s boyfriend. And, yes, she’s busy, this is a bad time.” He replied. Lyra shot him a look but her smile didn’t seem to be willing to seize.
“B- BOYFRIEND?? SHE WAS WITH HER— OH— oh. OH!! THATS WHY SHE WAS SO FLUSTERED. THIS MUST BE SO AWKWARD FOR HER WITH ME BEING—” Harry was cut off by Grayson.
“It doesn’t matter who you are. She wasn’t awkwarded out.” Grayson stated in the cold tone he used to scare people off. Lyra could hear the unspoken words, by the likes of you.
“Don’t be rude, Gray.” Lyra whispered to him.
“You asked me to be honest.” Grayson replied, innocently. Lyra wicked him on the arm again playfully.
“… I’m just gonna hang up now.” Said Harry before hanging up.
Lyra and Grayson sat their in silence staring at each other for a while.
“Why does he talk so much?” Grayson asked, finally.
Lyra raised her brow in response.
“Like— didn’t you both literally just talk, why does he feel the need to continue talking again?” He said.
Lyra didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Just pass on the message your mom gave him and shut the fuck up.” Grayson stated matter of-factly, and Lyra almost fell off Grayson’s lap when she saw a pout form on his face.
Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. Pouting. God, she had been blessed. Pouting shouldn’t have looked as good on him as it did.
“Grayson,” Lyra said as he met her gaze, “You’re jealous.” She stated.
Grayson stared at her for a while. “That I am, sweetheart. I don’t like him.” He said. Lyra smiled.
“You don’t have to. I don’t plan on talking to him much.” She replied. Grayson ‘hmm’ed in response, something still bothering him.
Lyra rolled her eyes, he was being incredibly petty, “No, we didn’t kiss. Or hug. Or cuddle. Or any of that stuff. Just one failed date.” She said.
Then, Grayson actually smiled, “So, I’m your first?” He asked, satisfied. Lyra rolled her eyes a second time.
“Yes. You are.” She replied.
Eventually Grayson and Lyra got up since he needed to shower.
“Alright, you should shower now. I’ll go use the other washroom.” Lyra stated, turning around.
“Or.” Grayson said and Lyra stopped, facing him again.
Grayson leaned in and whispered something directly into her ear. Lyra went red.
“G-GRAYSON???!!!!”
———————————
What Grayson said? I’ll leave that up to ur imaginations.
BRO IDK JEALOUSY FICS ISTG. But I had this ask for a while so I figured I might as well 😭🥹🙏🏻
This plot came to me in the shower lmfao—
@alwaysthefangirl , @lyrakanefanatic
Constructive Criticism ❤️❤️❤️✨
(@haniya1234, I’m late, but I’m here 😔😌✨ I couldn’t think of a nice premise for before dating so this turned out to be after 😭😭🙏🏻, apologies 😭🥹🙏🏻 ENJOYYY.)
